HUGH  WYNNE 
VOL.  I. 


UM=»R  A  ft  y 

OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 


'IN  THE  PRESENCE  OF  WASHINGTON. 


HUGH  WYNNE 


FREE   QUAKER 


SOMETIME  BREVET  LIEUTENANT-COLONEL  ON 

THE  STAFF  OF  HIS  EXCELLENCY 

GENERAL  WASHINGTON 


BY 


S.  WEIR  MITCHELL,  M.D. 

LL.  D.  HARVARD  AND   EDINBURGH 


VOL.  I 


50TH  THOUSAND 


NEW  YORK 
THE   CENTURY   CO. 

1898 


PS 

«2M 


Copyright.  1896,  by 
THE  CENTUKY  Co. 


THE  DEVlHNE  PHESa. 


HUGH  WYNNE 
VOL.  I. 


HUGH  WYNNE 


INTRODUCTORY 

T  is  now  many  years  since  I  began  these 
memoirs.  I  wrote  fully  a  third  of  them, 
and  then  put  them  aside,  having  found 
increasing  difficulties  as  I  went  on  with 
my  task.  These  arose  out  of  the  con 
stant  need  to  use  the  first  person  in  a  narrative  of 
adventure  and  incidents  which  chiefly  concern  the 
writer,  even  though  it  involve  also  the  fortunes  of 
many  in  all  ranks  of  life.  Having  no  gift  in  the 
way  of  composition,  I  knew  not  how  to  supply  or 
set  forth  what  was  outside  of  my  own  knowledge, 
nor  how  to  pretend  to  that  marvellous  insight,  as  to 
motives  and  thoughts,  which  they  affect  who  write 
books  of  fiction.  This  has  always  seemed  to  me 
absurd,  and  so  artificial  that,  with  my  fashion  of 
mind,  I  have  never  been  able  to  enjoy  such  works  nor 
agreeably  to  accept  their  claim  to  such  privilege  of 


2  HUGH  WYNNE 

insight.  In  a  memoir  meant  for  my  descendants,  it 
was  fitting  and  desirable  that  I  should  at  times  speak 
of  my  own  appearance,  and,  if  possible,  of  how  I  seemed 
as  child  or  man  to  others.  This,  I  found,  I  did  not 
incline  to  do,  even  when  I  myself  knew  what  had 
been  thought  of  me  by  friend  or  foe.  And  so,  as  I 
said,  I  set  the  task  aside,  with  no  desire  to  take  it 
up  again. 

Some  years  later  my  friend,  John  Warder,  died, 
leaving  to  my  son,  his  namesake,  an  ample  estate, 
and  to  me  all  his  books,  papers,  plate,  and  wines. 
Locked  in  a  desk,  I  found  a  diary,  begun  when  a  lad, 
and  kept,  with  more  or  less  care,  during  several  years 
of  the  great  war.  It  contained  also  recollections  of 
our  youthful  days,  and  was  very  full  here  and  there 
of  thoughts,  comments,  and  descriptions  concerning 
events  of  the  time,  and  of  people  whom  we  both 
had  known.  It  told  of  me  much  that  I  could  not 
otherwise  have  willingly  set  down,  even  if  the  mat 
ter  had  appeared  to  me  as  it  did  to  him,  which  was 
not  always  the  case ;  also  my  friend  chanced  to  have 
been  present  at  scenes  which  deeply  concerned  me, 
but  which,  without  his  careful  setting  forth,  would 
never  have  come  to  my  knowledge. 

A  kindly  notice,  writ  nine  years  before,  bade  me 
use  his  journal  as  seemed  best  to  me.  When  I  read 
this,  and  came  to  see  how  full  and  clear  were  his 
statements  of  much  that  I  knew,  and  of  some  things 
which  I  did  not,  I  felt  ripely  inclined  to  take  up 
again  the  story  I  had  left  unfinished ;  and  now  I 
have  done  so,  and  have  used  my  friend  as  the  third 


HUGH  WYNNE  3 

person,  whom  I  could  permit  to  say  what  he  thought 
of  me  from  time  to  time,  and  to  tell  of  incidents  I 
did  not  see,  or  record  impressions  and  emotions  of 
his  own.  This  latter  privilege  pleases  me  because  I 
shall,  besides  my  own  story,  be  able  to  let  those  dear 
to  me  gather  from  the  confessions  of  his  journal,  and 
from  my  own  statements,  what  manner  of  person 
was  the  true  gentleman  and  gallant  soldier  to  whom 
I  owed  so  much. 

I  trust  this  tale  of  an  arduous  struggle  by  a  new 
land  against  a  great  empire  will  make  those  of  my 
own  blood  the  more  desirous  to  serve  their  coun 
try  with  honour  and  earnestness,  and  with  an  abiding 
belief  in  the  great  Ruler  of  events. 

In  my  title  of  this  volume  I  have  called  myself  a 
"  Free  Quaker."  The  term  has  no  meaning  for  most 
of  the  younger  generation,  and  yet  it  should  tell  a 
story  of  many  sad  spiritual  struggles,  of  much  heart- 
searching  distress,  of  brave  decisions,  and  of  battle 
and  of  camp. 

At  Fifth  and  Arch  streets,  on  an  old  gable,  is  this 
record : 

BY  GENERAL  SUBSCRIPTION, 

FOR  THE  FREE  QUAKERS. 

ERECTED  A.  D.  1783, 

OF  THE  EMPIRE,  8. 

In  the  burying-ground  across  the  street,  and  in 
and  about  the  sacred  walls  of  Christ  Church,  not  far 
away,  lie  Benjamin  Franklin,  Francis  Hopkinson, 
Peyton  Randolph,  Benjamin  Rush,  and  many  a  gal 
lant  soldier  and  sailor  of  the  war  for  freedom. 


HUGH  WYNNE 


Among  them,  at  peace  forever,  rest  the  gentle-folks 
who  stood  for  the  king— the  gay  men  and  women  who 
were  neutral,  or  who  cared  little  under  which  George 
they  danced  or  gambled  or  drank  their  old  Madeira. 
It  is  a  neighbourhood  which  should  be  forever  full  of 
interest  to  those  who  love  the  country  of  our  birth. 


CHILD'S  early  life  is  such  as  those  who 
rule  over  him  make  it  j  but  they  can  only 
modify  what  he  is.  Yet,  as  all  know, 
after  their  influence  has  ceased,  the  man 
himself  has  to  deal  with  the  effects  of 
blood  and  breed,  and,  too,  with  the  consequences  of 
the  mistakes  of  his  elders  in  the  way  of  education. 
For  these  reasons  I  am  pleased  to  say  something  of 
myself  in  the  season  of  my  green  youth. 

The  story  of  the  childhood  of  the  great  is  often  of 
value,  no  matter  from  whom  they  are  "ascended," 
as  my  friend  Warder  used  to  say  j  but  even  in  the 
lives  of  such  lesser  men  as  I,  who  have  played  the 
part  of  simple  pawns  in  a  mighty  game,  the  change 
from  childhood  to  manhood  is  not  without  interest. 
I  have  often  wished  we  could  have  the  recorded 
truth  of  a  child's  life  as  it  seemed  to  him  day  by  day, 
but  this  can  never  be.  The  man  it  is  who  writes  the 
life  of  the  boy,  and  his  recollection  of  it  is  perplexed 
by  the  siftings  of  memory,  which  let  so  much  of 
thought  and  feeling  escape,  keeping  little  more  than 
barren  facts,  or  the  remembrance  of  periods  of  trou 
ble  or  of  emotion,  sometimes  quite  valueless,  while 
more  important  moral  events  are  altogether  lost. 

5 


6  HUGH  WYNNE 

As  these  pages  will  show,  I  have  found  it  agree 
able,  and  at  times  useful,  to  try  to  understand,  as 
far  as  in  me  lay,  not  only  the  men  who  were  my  cap 
tains  or  mates  in  war  or  in  peace,  but  also  myself.  I 
have  often  been  puzzled  by  that  well-worn  phrase 
as  to  the  wisdom  of  knowing  thyself,  for  with  what 
manner  of  knowledge  you  know  yourself  is  a  grave 
question,  and  it  is  sometimes  more  valuable  to  know 
what  is  truly  thought  of  you  by  your  nearest  friends 
than  to  be  forever  teasing  yourself  to  determine 
whether  what  you  have  done  in  the  course  of  your 
life  was  just  what  it  should  have  been. 

I  may  be  wrong  in  the  belief  that  my  friend  War 
der  saw  others  more  clearly  than  he  saw  himself. 
He  was  of  that  opinion,  and  he  says  in  one  place  that 
he  is  like  a  mirror,  seeing  all  things  sharply  except 
that  he  saw  not  himself.  Whether  he  judged  me 
justly  or  not,  I  must  leave  to  others  to  decide.  I 
should  be  glad  to  think  that,  in  the  great  account,  I 
shall  be  as  kindly  dealt  with  as  in  the  worn  and 
faded  pages  which  tell  brokenly  of  the  days  of  our 
youth.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  my  eyes  have 
filled  many  times  as  I  have  lingered  over  these 
records  of  my  friend,  surely  as  sweet  and  true  a 
gentleman  as  I  have  ever  known.  Perhaps  some 
times  they  have  even  overflowed  at  what  they 
read.  Why  are  we  reluctant  to  confess  a  not  ignoble 
weakness,  such  as  is,  after  all,  only  the  heart's  con 
fession  of  what  is  best  in  life?  What  becomes  of 
the  tears  of  age? 

This  is  but  a  wearisome  introduction,  and  yet 


HUGH  WYNNE  7 

necessary,  for  I  desire  to  use  freely  my  friend's  jour 
nal,  and  this  without  perpetual  mention  of  his  name, 
save  as  one  of  the  actors  who  played,  as  I  did,  a 
modest  part  in  the  tumult  of  the  war,  in  which  my 
own  fortunes  and  his  were  so  deeply  concerned.  To 
tell  of  my  own  life  without  speaking  freely  of  the 
course  of  a  mighty  story  would  be  quite  impossible. 
I  look  back,  indeed,  with  honest  comfort  on  a  strug 
gle  which  changed  the  history  of  three  nations,  but 
I  am  sure  that  the  war  did  more  for  me  than  I  for 
it.  This  I  saw  in  others.  Some  who  went  into  it 
unformed  lads  came  out  strong  men.  In  others  its 
temptations  seemed  to  find  and  foster  weaknesses  of 
character,  and  to  cultivate  the  hidden  germs  of  evil. 
Of  all  the  examples  of  this  influence,  none  has  seemed 
to  me  so  tragical  as  that  of  General  Arnold,  because, 
being  of  reputable  stock  and  sufficient  means,  gen 
erous,  in  every-day  life  kindly,  and  a  free-handed 
friend,  he  was  also,  as  men  are  now  loath  to  believe, 
a  most  gallant  and  daring  soldier,  a  tender  father, 
and  an  attached  husband.  The  thought  of  the  fall 
of  this  man  fetches  back  to  me,  as  I  write,  the  re 
membrance  of  my  own  lesser  temptations,  and  with 
a  thankful  heart  I  turn  aside  to  the  uneventful  story 
of  my  boyhood  and  its  surroundings.  v 

I  was  born  in  the  great  city  Governor  William 
Penn  founded,  in  Pennsylvania,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Delaware,  and  my  earliest  memories  are  of  the  broad 
river,  the  ships,  the  creek  before  our  door,  and  of 
grave  gentlemen  in  straight-collared  coats  and  broad- 
brimmed  beaver  hats. 


8  HUGH  WYNNE 

I  began  life  in  a  day  of  stern  rule,  and  among  a 
people  who  did  not  concern  themselves  greatly  as  to 
a  child's  having  that  inheritance  of  happiness  with 
which  we  like  to  credit  childhood.  Who  my  people 
were  had  much  to  do  with  my  own  character,  and 
what  those  people  were  and  had  been  it  is  needful  to 
say  before  I  let  my  story  run  its  natural  and,  I  hope, 
not  uninteresting  course. 

In  my  father's  bedroom,  over  the  fireplace,  hung  a 
pretty  picture  done  in  oils,  by  whom  I  know  not.  It 
is  now  in  my  library.  It  represents  a  pleasant  park, 
and  on  a  rise  of  land  a  gray  Jacobean  house,  with, 
at  either  side,  low  wings  curved  forward,  so  as  to 
embrace  a  courtyard  shut  in  by  railings  and  gilded 
gates.  There  is  also  a  terrace  with  urns  and  flowers. 
I  used  to  think  it  was  the  king's  palace,  until,  one 
morning,  when  I  was  still  a  child,  Friend  Pember- 
ton  carne  to  visit  my  father  with  William  Logan  and 
a  very  gay  gentleman,  Mr.  John  Penn,  he  who  was 
sometime  lieutenant-governor  of  the  province,  and  of 
whom  and  of  his  brother  Richard  great  hopes  were 
conceived  among  Friends.  I  was  encouraged  by 
Mr.  Penn  to  speak  more  than  was  thought  fitting 
for  children  in  those  days,  and  because  of  his  rank 
I  escaped  the  reproof  I  should  else  have  met  with. 

He  said  to  my  father, "  The  boy  favours  thy  people." 
Then  he  added,  patting  my  head,  "When  thou  art 
a  man,  my  lad,  thou  shouldst  go  and  see  where  thy 
people  came  from  in  Wales.  I  have  been  at  Wyn- 
cote.  It  is  a  great  house,  with  wings  in  the  Italian 
manner,  and  a  fine  fountain  in  the  court,  and  gates 


HUGH  WYNNE  9 

which,  were  gilded  when  Charles  II.  came  to  see  the 
squire,  and  which  are  not  to  be  set  open  again  until 
another  king  conies  thither." 

Then  I  knew  this  was  the  picture  upstairs,  and 
much  pleased  I  said  eagerly: 

"  My  father  has  it  in  his  bedroom,  and  our  arms 
below  it,  all  painted  most  beautiful." 

"  Thou  art  a  clever  lad,"  said  the  young  lieutenant- 
governor,  "  and  I  must  have  described  it  well.  Let 
us  have  a  look  at  it,  Friend  Wynne." 

But  my  mother,  seeing  that  "William  Logan  and 
Friend  Pemberton  were  silent  and  grave,  and  that  my 
father  looked  ill  pleased,  made  haste  to  make  ex 
cuse,  because  it  was  springtime  and  the  annual  house- 
cleaning  was  going  on. 

Mr.  Penn  cried  out  merrily,  "  I  see  that  the  elders 
are  shocked  at  thee,  Friend  Wynne,  because  of  these 
vanities  of  arms  and  pictures;  but  there  is  good 
heraldry  on  the  tankard  out  of  which  I  drank  James 
Pemberton's  beer  yesterday.  Fie,  fie,  Friend  James  ! " 
Then  he  bowed  to  my  mother  very  courteously,  and 
said  to  my  father,  "  I  hope  I  have  not  got  thy  boy 
into  difficulties  because  I  reminded  him  that  he  is 
come  of  gentles." 

"  No,  no,"  said  my  mother. 

"  I  know  the  arms,  madam,  and  well  too :  quar 
terly,  three  eagles  displayed  in  fesse,  and— 

"Thou  wilt  pardon  me,  Friend  Perm,"  said  my 
father,  curtly.  "  These  are  the  follies  of  a  world  which 
concerns  not  those  of  our  society.  The  lad's  aunt  has 
put  enough  of  such  nonsense  into  his  head  already." 


10  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  Let  it  pass,  then,"  returned  the  young  lieutenant- 
governor,  with  good  humour ;  "  but  I  hope,  as  I  said, 
that  I  have  made  no  trouble  for  this  stout  boy  of 
thine." 

My  father  replied  deliberately,  "  There  is  no  harm 
done.'7  He  was  too  proud  to  defend  himself,  but  I 
heard  long  after  that  he  was  taken  to  task  by  Thomas 
Scattergood  and  another  for  these  vanities  of  arms 
and  pictures.  He  told  them  that  he  put  the  picture 
where  none  saw  it  but  ourselves,  and,  when  they  per 
sisted,  reminded  them  sharply,  as  Mr.  Penn  had  done, 
of  the  crests  on  their  own  silver,  by  which  these 
Friends  of  Welsh  descent  set  much  store. 

I  remember  that,  when  the  gay  young  lieutenant- 
governor  had  taken  his  leave,  my  father  said  to  my 
mother,  "  Was  it  thou  who  didst  tell  the  boy  this  fool 
ishness  of  these  being  our  arms  and  the  like,  or  was 
it  my  sister  Gainor  ? " 

Upon  this  my  mother  drew  up  her  brows,  and 
spread  her  palms  out,— a  French  way  she  had,— and 
cried,  "Are  they  not  thy  arms?  Wherefore  should 
we  be  ashamed  to  confess  it?" 

I  suppose  this  puzzled  him,  for  he  merely  added, 
"  Too  much  may  be  made  of  such  vanities." 

All  of  this  I  but  dimly  recall.  It  is  one  of  the 
earliest  recollections  of  my  childhood,  and,  being  out 
of  the  common,  was,  I  suppose,  for  that  reason  better 
remembered. 

I  do  not  know  how  old  I  was  when,  at  this  time, 
Mr.  Penn,  in  a  neat  wig  with  side  rolls,  and  dressed 
very  gaudy,  aroused  my  curiosity  as  to  these  folks  in 


HUGH  WYNNE  11 

Wales.  It  was  long  after,  and  only  by  degrees,  that 
I  learned  the  following  facts,  which  were  in  time  to 
have  a  great  influence  on  my  own  life  and  its  varied 
fortunes. 

In  or  about  the  year  1671,  and  of  course  before 
Mr.  Penn,  the  proprietary,  came  over,  my  grandfather 
had  crossed  the  sea,  and  settled  near  Chester  011 
lands  belonging  to  the  Swedes.  The  reason  of  his 
coming  was  this :  about  1669  the  Welsh  of  the  Eng 
lish  church  and  the  magistrates  were  greatly  stirred 
to  wrath  against  the  people  called  Quakers,  because 
of  their  refusal  to  pay  tithes.  Among  these  offen 
ders  was  no  small  number  of  the  lesser  gentry,  espe 
cially  they  of  Merionethshire. 

My  grandfather,  Hugh  Wynne,  was  the  son  and 
successor  of  Godfrey  Wynne,  of  Wyncote.  How 
he  chanced  to  be  born  among  these  hot-blooded 
Wynnes  I  do  not  comprehend.  He  is  said  to  have 
been  gay  in  his  early  days,  but  in  young  manhood  to 
have  become  averse  to  the  wild  ways  of  his  breed, 
and  to  have  taken  a  serious  and  contemplative  turn. 
Falling  in  with  preachers  of  the  people  called  Qua 
kers,  he  left  the  church  of  the  establishment,  gave  up 
hunting,  ate  his  game-cocks,  and  took  to  straight  col 
lars,  plain  clothes,  and  plain  talk.  When  he  refused 
to  pay  the  tithes  he  was  fined,  and  at  last  cast  into 
prison  in  Shrewsbury  Gate  House,  where  he  lay  for 
a  year,  with  no  more  mind  to  B£  taxed  for  a  hire 
ling  ministry  at  the  end  of  that  time  than  at  the 
beginning. 

His  next  brother,  William,  a  churchman  as  men 


12  HUGH  WYNNE 

go,  seems  to  have  loved  him,  although  he  was  him 
self  a  rollicking  fox-hunter ;  and,  seeing  that  Hugh 
would  die  if  left  in  this  duress,  engaged  him  to  go  to 
America.  Upon  his  agreeing  to  make  over  his  estate 
to  William,  those  in  authority  readily  consented  to 
his  liberation,  since  William  had  no  scruples  as  to 
the  matter  of  tithes,  and  with  him  there  would  be  no 
further  trouble.  Thus  it  came  about  that  my  grand 
father  Hugh  left  Wales.  He  had  with  him,  I  pre 
sume,  enough  of  means  to  enable  him  to  make  a 
start  in  Pennsylvania.  It  could  not  have  been  much. 
He  carried  also,  what  no  doubt  he  valued,  a  certifi 
cate  of  removal  from  the  Quarterly  Meeting  held  at 
Tyddyn  y  Garreg.  I  have  this  singular  document. 
In  it  is  said  of  him  and  of  his  wife,  Ellin  ("for 
whom  it  may  concern  w),  that  "  they  are  faithfull  and 
beloved  Friends,  well  known  to  be  serviceable  unto 
Friends  and  brethren,  since  they  have  become  con 
vinced;  of  a  blameless  and  savory  conversation. 
Also  are  P'sons  Dearly  beloved  of  all  Souls.  His 
testimony  sweet  and  tender,  reaching  to  the  quicking 
seed  of  life  ;  we  cannot  alsoe  but  bemoan  the  want 
of  his  company,  for  that  in  difficult  occasion  he  was 
sted-f  ast— nor  was  one  to  be  turned  aside.  He  is  now 
seasonable  in  intention  for  the  Plantations,  in  order 
into  finding  his  way  clear,  and  freedom  in  the  truth 
according  to  the  measure  manifested  unto  him,"  etc. 
And  so  the  strong-minded  man  is  commended  to 
Friends  across  the  seas.  In  the  records  of  the  meet 
ings  for  sufferings  in  England  are  certain  of  his  let 
ters  from  the  jail.  How  his  character  descended  to 


HUGH  WYNNE  13 

my  sterner  parent,  and,  through  another  generation, 
to  me,  and  how  the  coming  in  of  my  mother's  gen 
tler  blood  helped  in  after-days,  and  amid  stir  of 
war,  to  modify  in  me,  this  present  writer,  the  ruder 
qualities  of  my  race,  I  may  hope  to  set  forth. 

William  died  suddenly  in  1679  without  children, 
and  was  succeeded  by  the  third  brother,  Owen.  This 
gentleman  lived  the  life  of  his  time,  and,  dying  in 
1700  of  much  beer  and  many  strong  waters,  left  one 
son,  Owen,  a  minor.  What  with  executors  and  other 
evils,  the  estate  now  went  from  ill  to  worse.  Owen 
Wynne  2d  was  in  no  haste,  and  thus  married  as  late  as 
somewhere  about  1740,  and  had  issue,  William,  and 
later,  in  1744,  a  second  son,  Arthur,  and  perhaps 
others  ;  but  of  all  this  I  heard  naught  until  many 
years  after,  as  I  have  already  said. 

It  may  seem  a  weak  and  careless  thing  for  a  man 
thus  to  cast  away  his  father's  lands  as  my  ancestor 
did  j  but  what  he  gave  up  was  a  poor  estate,  embar 
rassed  with  mortgages  and  lessened  by  fines,  until 
the  income  was,  I  suspect,  but  small.  Certain  it  is 
that  the  freedom  to  worship  God  as  he  pleased  was 
more  to  him  than  wealth,  and  assuredly  not  to  be 
set  against  a  so  meagre  estate,  where  he  must  have 
lived  among  enmities,  or  must  have  diced,  drunk,  and 
hunted  with  the  rest  of  his  kinsmen  and  neighbours. 

I  have  a  faint  memory  of  my  aunt,  Gainor  Wynne, 
as  being  fond  of  discussing  the  matter,  and  of  how 
angry  this  used  to  make  my  father.  She  had  a 
notion  that  my  father  knew  more  than  he  was  will 
ing  to  say,  and  that  there  had  been  something  further 


14  HUGH  WYNNE 

agreed  between  the  brothers,  although  what  this  was 
she  knew  not,  nor  ever  did  for  many  a  day.  She  was 
given,  however,  to  filling  my  young  fancy  with  tales 
about  the  greatness  of  these  Wynnes,  and  of  how  the 
old  homestead,  rebuilded  in  James  I.7s  reign,  had 
been  the  nest  of  Wynnes  past  the  memory  of  man. 
Be  all  this  as  it  may,  we  had  lost  Wyncote  for  the 
love  of  a  freer  air,  although  all  this  did  not  much 
concern  me  in  the  days  of  which  I  now  write. 

Under  the  mild  and  just  rule  of  the  proprietary, 
my  grandfather  Hugh  prospered,  and  in  turn  his  son 
John,  my  father,  to  a  far  greater  extent.  Their  old 
home  in  Wales  became  to  them,  as  time  went  on,  less 
and  less  important.  Their  acres  here  in  Merion  and 
Bucks  were  more  numerous  and  more  fertile.  I  may 
add  that  the  possession  of  many  slaves  in  Maryland, 
and  a  few  in  Pennsylvania,  gave  them  the  feeling  of 
authority  and  position,  which  the  colonial  was  apt  to 
lose  in  the  presence  of  his  English  rulers,  who,  being 
in  those  days  principally  gentlemen  of  the  army, 
were  given  to  assuming  airs  of  superiority. 

In  a  word,  my  grandfather,  a  man  of  excellent  wits 
and  of  much  importance,  was  of  the  council  of  Wil 
liam  Penn,  and,  as  one  of  his  chosen  advisers,  much 
engaged  in  his  difficulties  with  the  Lord  Baltimore 
as  to  the  boundaries  of  the  lands  held  of  the  crown. 
Finally,  when,  as  Penn  says,  "I  could  not  prevail 
with  my  wife  to  stay,  and  still  less  with  Tishe," 
which  was  short  for  Lsetitia,  his  daughter,  an  obsti 
nate  wench,  it  was  to  men  like  Markham,  Logan, 
and  my  grandfather  that  he  gave  his  full  confidence 


HUGH  WYNNE  15 

and  delegated  his  authority ;  so  that  Hugh  Wynne 
had  become,  long  before  his  death,  a  person  of  so 
much  greater  condition  than  the  small  squires  to 
whom  he  had  given  up  his  estate,  that  he  was 
like  Joseph  in  this  new  land.  What  with  the  indif 
ference  come  of  large  means,  and  disgust  for  a 
country  where  he  had  been  ill  treated,  he  probably 
ceased  to  think  of  his  forefathers'  life  in  Wales  as 
of  a  thing  either  desirable  or  in  any  way  suited  to 
his  own  creed. 

Soon  the  letters,  which  at  first  were  frequent,  that 
is,  coming  twice  a  year,  when  the  London  packet 
arrived  or  departed,  became  rare;  and  if,  on  the 
death  of  my  great-uncle  William,  they  ceased,  or  if 
any  passed  later  between  us  and  the  next  holder 
of  Wyncote,  I  never  knew.  The  Welsh  squires  had 
our  homestead,  and  we  our  better  portion  of  wealth 
and  freedom  in  this  new  land.  And  so  ended  my 
knowledge  of  this  matter  for  many  a  year. 

You  will  readily  understand  that  the  rude  life 
of  a  fox-hunting  squire  or  the  position  of  a  strict 
Quaker  on  a  but  moderate  estate  in  Merionethshire 
would  have  had  little  to  tempt  my  father.  Yet  one 
thing  remained  with  him  awhile  as  an  unchanged 
inheritance,  to  which,  so  far  as  I  remember,  he  only 
once  alluded.  Indeed,  I  should  never  have  guessed 
that  he  gave  the  matter  a  thought  but  for  that  visit 
of  Mr.  John  Penn,  and  the  way  it  recurred  to  me  in 
later  days  in  connection  with  an  incident  concerning 
the  picture  and  the  blazoned  arms. 

I  think  he  cared  less  and  less  as  years  went  by.    In 


16  HUGH  WYNNE 

earlier  days  he  may  still  have  liked  to  remember 
that  he  might  have  been  Wynne  of  Wyncote ;  but 
this  is  a  mere  guess  on  my  part.  Pride  spiritual  is 
a  master  passion,  and  certain  it  is  that  the  creed  and 
ways  of  Fox  and  Penn  became  to  him,  as  years  cre 
ated  habits,  of  an  importance  far  beyond  the  pride 
which  values  ancient  blood  or  a  stainless  shield. 

The  old  house,  which  was  built  much  in  the  same 
fashion  as  the  great  mansion  of  my  Lord  Dysart  on 
the  Thames  near  to  Richmond,  but  smaller,  was,  after 
all,  his  family  home.  The  picture  and  the  arms  were 
hid  away  in  deference  to  opinions  by  which  in  gen 
eral  he  more  and  more  sternly  abided.  Once,  when 
I  was  older,  I  went  into  his  bedroom,  and  was  sur 
prised  to  find  him  standing  before  the  hearth,  his 
hands  crossed  behind  his  back,  looking  earnestly  at 
the  brightly  coloured  shield  beneath  the  picture  of 
Wyncote.  I  knew  too  well  to  disturb  him  in  these 
silent  moods,  but  hearing  my  steps,  he  suddenly 
called  me  to  him.  I  obeyed  with  the  dread  his  stern 
ness  always  caused  me.  To  my  astonishment,  his 
face  was  flushed  and  his  eyes  were  moist.  He  laid 
his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  clutched  it  hard  as  he 
spoke.  He  did  not  turn,  but,  still  looking  up  at  the 
arms,  said,  in  a  voice  which  paused  between  the  words 
and  sounded  strange : 

"I  have  been  insulted  to-day,  Hugh,  by  the  man 
Thomas  Bradford.  I  thank  God  that  the  Spirit  pre 
vailed  with  me  to  answer  him  in  Christian  meekness. 
He  came  near  to  worse  things  than  harsh  words. 
Be  warned,  my  son.  It  is  a  terrible  set-back  from 


HUGH  WYNNE  17 

right  living  to  come  of  a  hot-blooded  breed  like 
these  Wynnes."  - 

I  looked  up  at  him  as  he  spoke.  He  was  smiling. 
"But  not  all  bad,  Hugh,  not  all  bad.  Remember 
that  it  is  something,  in  this  nest  of  disloyal  traders, 
to  have  come  of  gentle  blood.'7 

Then  he  left  gazing  on  the  arms  and  the  old  home 
of  our  people,  and  said  severely,  "  Hast  thou  gotten 
thy  tasks  to-day  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  It  has  not  been  so  of  late.  I  hope  thou  hast  con 
sidered  before  speaking.  If  I  hear  no  better  of  thee 
soon  thou  wilt  repent  it.  It  is  time  thou  should st 
take  thy  life  more  seriously.  What  I  have  said  is 
for  no  ear  but  thine." 

I  went  away  with  a  vague  feeling  that  I  had  suf 
fered  for  Mr.  Bradford,  and  on  account  of  my  father's 
refusal  to  join  in  resistance  to  the  Stamp  Act  ;  for 
this  was  in  November,  1765,  and  I  was  then  fully 
twelve  years  of  age. 

My  father's  confession,  and  all  he  had  said  follow 
ing  it,  made  upon  me  one  of  those  lasting  impres 
sions  which  are  rare  in  youth,  but  which  may  have  a 
great  influence  on  the  life  of  a  man.  Now  all  the 
boys  were  against  the  Stamp  Act,  and  I  had  at  the 
moment  a  sudden  fear  at  being  opposed  to  my  father. 
I  had,  too,  a  feeling  of  personal  shame  because  this 
strong  man,  whom  I  dreaded  on  account  of  his  sever 
ity,  should  have  been  so  overwhelmed  by  an  insult. 
There  was  at  this  period,  and  later,  much  going  on 
in  my  outer  life  to  lessen  the  relentless  influence  of 
2 


18  HUGH  WYNNE 

the  creed  of  conduct  which  prevailed  in  our  home  for 
me,  and  for  all  of  our  house.  I'had  even  then  begun 
to  suspect  at  school  that  non-resistance  did  not  add 
permanently  to  the  comfort  of  life.  I  was  sorry  that 
my  father  had  not  resorted  to  stronger  measures 
with  Mr.  Bradford,  a  gentleman  whom,  in  after- 
years,  I  learned  greatly  to  respect. 

More  than  anything  else,  this  exceptional  experi 
ence  as  to  my  father  left  me  with  a  great  desire  to 
know  more  of  these  Wynnes,  and  with  a  certain  share 
of  that  pride  of  race,  which,  to  my  surprise,  as  I  think 
it  over  now,  was  at  that  time  in  my  father's  esteem 
a  possession  of  value.  I  am  bound  to  add  that  I  also 
felt  some  self-importance  at  being  intrusted  with 
this  secret,  for  such  indeed  it  was. 

Before  my  grandfather  left  Wales  he  had  married 
a  distant  cousin,  Ellin  Owen,  and  on  her  death,  child 
less,  he  took  to  wife,  many  years  later,  her  younger  sis 
ter,  Gainor  ;1-for  these  Owens,  our  kinsmen,  had  also 
become  Friends,  and  had  followed  my  grandfather's 
example  in  leaving  their  horn  e  in  Merionethshire.  To 
this  second  marriage,  which  occurred  in  1713,  were 
born  my  aunt,  Gainor  Wynne,  and,  two  years  later, 
my  father,  John  Wynne.  I  have  no  remembrance 
of  either  grandparent.  Both  lie  in  the  ground  at 
Merion  Meeting-house,  under  nameless,  unmarked 
graves,  after  the  manner  of  Friends.  I  like  it  not. 

My  father,  being  a  stern  and  silent  man,  must 
needs  be  caught  by  his  very  opposite,  and,  accord- 

1  Thus  early  we  shed  the  English  prejudice  against  mar 
riage  with  a  deceased  wife's  sister. 


HUGH  WYNNE  19 

ing  to  this  law  of  our  nature,  fell  in  love  with  Marie 
Beauvais,  the  orphan  of  a  French  gentleman  who 
had  become  a  Quaker,  and  was  of  that  part  of  France 
called  the  Midi.  Of  this  marriage  I  was  the  only 
surviving  offspring,  my  sister  Ellin  dying  when  I 
was  an  infant.  I  was  born  in  the  city  of  Penn,  on 
January  9,  1753,  at  9  p.  M. 


II 


HAVE  but  to  close  my  eyes  to  see  the 
house  in  which  I  lived  in  my  youth.  It 
stood  in  the  city  of  Penn,  back  from  the 
low  bluff  of  Dock  Creek,  near  to  Walnut 
street.  The  garden  stretched  down  to 
the  water,  and  before  the  door  were  still  left  on  either 
side  two  great  hemlock-spruces,  which  must  have 
been  part  of  the  noble  woods  under  which  the  first 
settlers  found  shelter.  Behind  the  house  was  a  sepa 
rate  building,  long  and  low,  in  which  all  the  cook 
ing  was  done,  and  upstairs  were  the  rooms  where 
the  slaves  dwelt  apart. 

The  great  garden  stretched  westward  as  far  as 
Third  street,  and  was  full  of  fine  fruit-trees,  and  in 
the  autumn  of  melons,  first  brought  hither  in  one  of 
my  father's  ships.  Herbs  and  simples  were  not  want 
ing,  nor  berries,  for  all  good  housewives  in  those  days 
were  expected  to  be  able  to  treat  colds  and  the  lesser 
maladies  with  simples,  as  they  were  called,  and  to  pro 
vide  abundantly  jams  and  conserves  of  divers  kinds. 
There  were  many  flowers  too,  and  my  mother  loved 
to  make  a  home  here  for  the  wildings  she  found  in 
the  governor's  woods.  I  have  heard  her  regret  that 
the  most  delicious  of  all  the  growths  of  spring,  the 

20 


HUGH  WYNNE  21 

ground-sweet,  which  I  think  they  now  call  arbutus, 
would  not  prosper  out  of  its  forest  shelter. 

The  house  was  of  black  and  red  brick,  and  double ; 
that  is,  with  two  windows  on  each  side  of  a  white 
Doric  doorway,  having  something  portly  about  it.  I 
use  the  word  as  Dr.  Johnson  defines  it ;  a  house  of 
port,  with  a  look  of  sufficiency,  and,  too,  of  ready 
hospitality,  which  was  due,  I  think,  to  the  upper 
half  of  the  door  being  open  a  good  part  of  the  year. 
I  recall  also  the  bull's-eye  of  thick  glass  in  the  upper 
half-door,  and  below  it  a  great  brass  knocker.  In  the 
white  shutters  were  cut  crescentic  openings,  which 
looked  at  night  like  half-shut  eyes  when  there  were 
lights  within  the  rooms.  In  the  hall  were  hung  on 
pegs  leathern  buckets.  They  were  painted  green, 
and  bore,  in  yellow  letters,  "  Fire  n  and  "  J.  W." 

The  day  I  went  to  school  for  the  first  time  is  very 
clear  in  my  memory.  I  can  see  myself,  a  stout  little 
fellow  about  eight  years  old,  clad  in  gray  homespun, 
with  breeches,  low  shoes,  and  a  low,  flat  beaver  hat. 
I  can  hear  my  mother  say,  "  Here  are  two  big  apples 
for  thy  master,"  it  being  the  custom  so  to  propitiate 
pedagogues.  Often  afterward  I  took  eggs  in  a  little 
basket,  or  flowers,  and  others  did  the  like. 

"  Now  run  !  run  !  "  she  cried,  "  and  be  a  good  boy ; 
run,  or  thou  wilt  be  late."  And  she  clapped  her 
hands  as  I  sped  away,  now  and  then  looking  back 
over  my  shoulder. 

I  remember  as  well  my  return  home  to  this  solid 
house,  this  first  day  of  my  going  to  school.  One  is 
apt  to  associate  events  with  persons,  and  my  mother 


22  HUGH  WYNNE 

stood  leaning  on  the  half-door  as  I  came  running 
back.  She  was  some  little  reassured  to  see  me  smil 
ing,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  been  mightily  scared 
at  my  new  venture. 

This  sweet  and  most  tender-hearted  lady  wore,  as 
you  may  like  to  know,  a  gray  gown,  and  a  blue  chintz 
apron  fastened  over  the  shoulders  with  wide  bands. 
On  her  head  was  a  very  broad-brimmed  white  beaver 
hat,  low  in  the  crown,  and  tied  by  silk  cords  under 
her  chin.  She  had  a  great  quantity  of  brown  hair, 
among  which  was  one  wide  strand  of  gray.  This 
she  had  from  youth,  I  have  been  told.  It  was  all 
very  silken,  and  so  curly  that  it  was  ever  in  rebellion 
against  the  custom  of  Friends,  which  would  have  had 
it  flat  on  the  temples.  Indeed,  I  never  saw  it  so,  for, 
whether  at  the  back  or  at  the  front,  it  was  wont  to 
escape  in  large  curls.  Nor  do  I  think  she  disliked 
this  worldly  wilfulness,  for  which  nature  had  pro 
vided  an  unanswerable  excuse.  She  had  serious  blue 
eyes,  very  large  and  wide  open,  so  that  the  clear  white 
was  seen  all  around  the  blue,  and  with  a  constant  look 
as  if  of  gentle  surprise.  In  middle  life  she  was 
still  pliant  and  well  rounded,  with  a  certain  compli 
ment  of  fresh  prettiness  in  whatever  gesture  she 
addressed  to  friend  or  guest.  Some  said  it  was  a 
French  way,  and  indeed  she  made  more  use  of  her 
hands  in  speech  than  was  common  among  people  of 
British  race. 

Her  goodness  seems  to  me  to  have  been  instinc 
tive,  and  to  have  needed  neither  thought  nor  effort. 
Her  faults,  as  I  think  of  her,  were  mostly  such  as 


HUGH  WYNNE  23 

arise  from  excess  of  loving  and  of  noble  moods. 
She  would  be  lavish  where  she  had  better  have  been 
merely  generous,  or  rash  where  some  would  have 
lacked  even  the  commoner  qualities  of  courage.  In 
deed,  as  to  this,  she  feared  no  one— neither  my  grave 
father  nor  the  grimmest  of  inquisitive  committees  of 
Friends. 

As  I  came  she  set  those  large,  childlike  eyes  on  me, 
and  opening  the  lower  half -door,  cried  out : 
•  "I  could  scarce  wait  for  thee  !  I  wish  I  could  have 
gone  with  thee,  Hugh ;  and  was  it  dreadful  ?  Come, 
let  us  see  thy  little  book.  And  did  they  praise  thy 
reading  ?  Didst  thou  tell  them  I  taught  thee  1  There 
are  girls,  I  hear,"  and  so  on— a  way  she  had  of  ask 
ing  many  questions  without  waiting  for  a  reply. 

As  we  chatted  we  passed  through  the  hall,  where 
tali  mahogany  chairs  stood  dark  against  the  white 
washed  walls,  such  as  were  in  all  the  rooms.  Joyous 
at  escape  from  school,  and  its  confinement  of  three 
long,  weary  hours,  from  eight  to  eleven,  I  dropped 
my  mother's  hand,  and,  running  a  little,  slid  down 
the  long  entry  over  the  thinly  sanded  floor,  and  then 
slipping,  came  down  with  a  rueful  countenance,  as 
nature,  foreseeing  results,  meant  that  a  boy  should 
descend  when  his  legs  fail  him.  My  mother  sat  down 
on  a  settle,  and  spread  out  both  palms  toward  me, 
laughing,  and  crying  out : 

"  So  near  are  joy  and  grief,  my  friends,  in  this 
world  of  sorrow." 

This  was  said  so  exactly  with  the  voice  and  man 
ner  of  a  famous  preacher  of  our  Meeting  that  even 


24  HUGH  WYNNE 

I,  a  lad  then  of  only  eight  years,  recognised  the 
imitation.  Indeed,  she  was  wonderful  at  this  trick 
of  mimicry,  a  thing  most  odious  among  Friends. 
As  I  smiled,  hearing  her,  I  was  aware  of  my  father 
in  the  open  doorway  of  the  sitting-room,  tall,  strong, 
with  much  iron-gray  hair.  Within  I  saw  several 
Friends,  large  rosy  men  in  drab,  with  horn  buttons 
and  straight  collars,  their  stout  legs  clad  in  dark  silk 
hose,  without  the  paste  or  silver  buckles  then  in  use. 
All  wrore  broad-brimmed,  low  beavers,  and  their 
gold-headed  canes  rested  between  their  knees. 

My  father  said  to  me,  in  his  sharp  way,  "  Take  thy 
noise  out  into  the  orchard.  The  child  disturbs  us, 
wife.  Thou  shouldst  know  better.  A  committee  of 
overseers  is  with  me."  He  disliked  the  name  Marie, 
and  was  never  heard  to  use  it,  nor  even  its  English 
equivalent. 

Upon  this  the  dear  lady  murmured,  "Let  us  fly, 
Hugh,"  and  she  ran  on  tiptoe  along  the  hall  with 
me,  while  my  father  closed  the  door.  "  Come,"  she 
added,  "  and  see  the  floor.  I  am  proud  of  it.  We 
have  friends  to  eat  dinner  with  us  at  two." 

The  great  room  where  we  took  our  meals  is  still 
clear  in  my  mind.  The  floor  was  two  inches  deep  in 
white  sand,  in  which  were  carefully  traced  zigzag 
lines,  with  odd  patterns  in  the  corners.  A  bare 
table  of  well-rubbed  mahogany  stood  in  the  middle, 
with  a  thin  board  or  two  laid  on  the  sand,  that  the 
table  might  be  set  without  disturbing  the  patterns. 
In  the  corners  were  glass-covered  buffets,  full  of  sil 
ver  and  Delft  ware  5  and  a  punch-bowl  of  Chelsea  was 


HUGH  WYNNE 

on  the  broad  window-ledge,  with  a  silver-mounted 
cocoanut  ladle. 

"  The  floor  is  pretty/'  she  said,  regarding  it  with 
pride,  "  and  I  would  make  flowers  too,  but  that  thy 
father  thinks  it  vain,  and  Friend  Pemberton  would 
set  his  bridge  spectacles  on  his  nose,  and  look  at  me, 
until  I  said  naughty  words,  oh,  very  !  Come  out ;  I 
will  find  thee  some  ripe  damsons,  and  save  thee  cake 
for  thy  supper,  if  Friend  Warder  does  not  eat  it  all. 
He  is  a  little  man,  and  eats  much.  A  solicitous  man/' 
and  she  became  of  a  sudden  the  person  she  had  in 
mind,  looking  somehow  feeble  and  cautious  and  un 
easy,  with  arms  at  length,  and  the  palms  turned 
forward,  so  that  I  knew  it  for  Joseph  Warder,  a  fre 
quent  caller,  of  whom  more  hereafter. 

"  What  is  so— solicitous  ? "  I  said. 

"  Oh,  too  fearful  concerning  what  may  be  thought 
of  him.  Vanity,  vanity !  Come,  let  us  run  down  the 
garden.  Canst  thou  catch  me,  Hugh  ? "  And  with 
this  she  fled  away,  under  the  back  stoop  and  through 
the  trees,  light  and  active,  her  curls  tumbling  out, 
while  I  hurried  after  her,  mindful  of  damsons,  and 
wondering  how  much  cake  Friend  Warder  would 
leave  for  my  comfort  at  evening. 

Dear,  ever  dear  lady,  seen  through  the  mist  of 
years !  None  was  like  you,  and  none  as  dear,  save 
one  who  had  as  brave  a  soul,  but  far  other  ways  and 
charms. 

And  thus  began  my  life  at  school,  to  which  I  went 
twice  a  day,  my  father  not  approving  of  the  plan  of 
three  sessions  a  day,  which  was  common,  nor,  for 


26  HUGH  WYNNE 

some  reason,  I  know  not  what,  of  schools  kept  by 
Friends.  So  it  was  that  I  set  out  before  eight,  and 
went  again  from  two  to  four.  My  master,  David 
Dove,  kept  his  school  in  VidalPs  Alley,  nigh  to 
Chestnut,  above  Second.  There  were  many  boys  and 
girls,  and  of  the  former  John  Warder,  and  Graydon, 
who  wrote  certain  memoirs  long  after.  His  mother, 
a  widow,  kept  boarders  in  the  great  Slate-roof  House 
near  by ;  for  in  those  days  this  was  a  common  re 
source  of  decayed  gentlewomen,  and  by  no  means 
aifected  their  social  position.  Here  came  many 
officers  to  stay,  and  their  red  coats  used  to  please  my 
eyes  as  I  went  by  the  porch,  where  at  evening  I  saw 
them  smoking  long  pipes,  and  saying  not  very  nice 
things  of  the  local  gentry,  or  of  the  women  as  they 
passed  by,  and  calling  "  Mohair  !  "  after  the  gentle 
men,  a  manner  of  army  word  of  contempt  for  citizens. 
I  liked  well  enough  the  freedom  I  now  enjoyed,  and 
found  it  to  my  fancy  to  wander  a  little  on  my  way  to 
school,  although  usually  I  followed  the  creek,  and, 
where  Second  street  crossed  it,  lingered  on  the  bridge 
to  watch  the  barges  or  galleys  come  up  at  full  of  tide 
to  the  back  of  the  warehouses  on  the  northeast  bank. 
I  have  observed  that  teachers  are  often  eccentric, 
and  surely  David  Dove  was  no  exception,  nor  do  I 
now  know  why  so  odd  a  person  was  chosen  by  many 
for  the  care  of  youth.  I  fancy  my  mother  had  to  do 
with  the  choice  in  my  case,  and  was  influenced  by 
the  fact  that  Dove  rarely  used  the  birch,  but  had  a 
queer  fancy  for  setting  culprits  on  a  stool,  with  the 
birch  switch  stuck  in  the  back  of  the  jacket,  so  as  to 


HUGH  WYNNE  27 

stand  up  behind  the  head.  I  hated  this,  and  would 
rather  have  been  birched  secundum  artem  than  to 
have  seen  the  girls  giggling  at  me.  I  changed  my 
opinion  later. 

Thus  my  uneventful  life  ran  on,  while  I  learned  to 
write,  and  acquired,  with  other  simple  knowledge, 
enough  of  Latin  and  Greek  to  fit  me  for  entrance  at 
the  academy,  which  Dr.  Franklin  had  founded  in  1750, 
in  the  hall  on  Fourth  street,  built  for  Whitefield's 
preaching. 

At  this  time  I  fell  much  into  the  company  of  John 
Warder,  a  lad  of  my  own  age,  and  a  son  of  that 
Joseph  who  liked  cake,  and  was,  as  my  mother  said, 
solicitous.  Most  of  the  games  of  boys  were  not 
esteemed  fitting  by  Friends,  and  hence  w$  were 
somewhat  limited  in  our  resources  j  but  to  fish  in  the 
creek  we  were  free  ;  also  to  haunt  the  ships  and  hear 
sea  yarns,  and  to  skate  in  winter,  were  not  forbidden. 
Jack  Warder  I  took  to  because  he  was  full  of  stories, 
and  would  imagine  what  things  might  chance  to  my 
father's  ships  in  the  West  Indies ;  but  why,  in  those 
early  days,  he  liked  me,  I  do  not  know. 

Our  school  life  with  Dove  ended  after  four  years 
in  an  odd  fashion.  I  was  then  about  twelve,  and 
had  become  a  vigorous,  daring  boy,  with,  as  it  now 
seems  to  me,  something  of  the  fortunate  gaiety  of 
my  mother.  Other  lads  thought  it  singular  that  in 
peril  I  became  strangely  vivacious ;  but  underneath 
I  had  a  share  of  the  relentless  firmness  of  my  father, 
and  of  his  vast  dislike  of  failure,  and  of  his  love  of 
truth.  I  have  often  thought  that  the  father  in  me 


28  HUGH  WYNNE 

saved  me  from  the  consequences  of  so  much  of  my 
mother's  gentler  nature  as  might  have  done  me  harm 
in  the  rude  conflicts  of  life. 

David  Dove,  among  other  odd  ways,  devised  a  plan 
for  punishing  the  unpunctual  which  had  consider 
able  success.  One  day,  when  I  had  far  overstayed 
the  hour  of  eight,  by  reason  of  having  climbed  into 
Friend  Pemberton's  gardens,  where  I  was  tempted  by 
many  green  apples,  I  was  met  by  four  older  boys.  One 
had  a  lantern,  which,  with  much  laughter,  he  tied 
about  my  neck,  and  one,  marching  before,  rang  a  bell. 
I  had  seen  this  queer  punishment  fall  on  others,  and 
certainly  the  amusement  shown  by  people  in  the 
streets  would  not  have  hurt  me  compared  with  the 
advantage  of  pockets  full  of  apples,  had  I  not  of  a 
sudden  seen  my  father,  who  usually  breakfasted  at 
six,  and  was  at  his  warehouse  by  seven.  He  looked 
at  me  composedly,  but  went  past  us  saying  nothing. 

On  my  return  about  eleven,  he  unluckily  met  me 
in  the  garden,  for  I  had  gone  the  back  way  in  order 
to  hide  my  apples.  I  had  an  unpleasant  half-hour, 
despite  my  mother's  tears,  and  was  sent  at  once  to 
confess  to  Friend  James  Pemberton.  The  good 
man  said  I  was  a  naughty  boy,  but  must  come  later 
when  the  apples  were  red  ripe,  and  I  should  take  all 
I  wanted,  and  I  might  fetch  with  me  another  boy, 
or  even  two.  I  never  forgot  this,  and  did  him  some 
good  turns  in  after-years,  and  right  gladly  too. 

In  my  own  mind  I  associated  David  Dove  with 
this  painful  interview  with  my  father.  I  disliked 
him  the  more  because,  when  the  procession  entered 


HUGH  WYNNE  29 

the  school,  a  little  girl  for  whom  Warder  and  I  had 
a  boy  friendship,  in  place  of  laughing,  as  did  the  rest, 
for  some  reason  began  to  cry.  This  angered  the 
master,  who  had  the  lack  of  self-control  often  seen  in 
eccentric  people.  He  asked  why  she  cried,  and  on 
her  sobbing  out  that  it  was  because  she  was  sorry 
for  me,  he  bade  her  take  off  her  stays.  These  being 
stiff,  and  worn  outside  the  gown,  would  have  made 
the  punishment  of  the  birch  on  the  shoulders  of  tri 
fling  moment. 

As  it  was  usual  to  whip  girls  at  school,  the  little 
maid  said  nothing,  but  did  as  she  was  bid,  taking  a 
sharp  birching  without  a  cry.  Meanwhile  I  sat  with 
my  head  in  my  hands,  and  my  fingers  in  my  ears  lest 
I  should  hear  her  weeping.  After  school  that  even-  \ 
ing,  when  all  but  Warder  and  I  had  wandered  home, 
I  wrote  on  the  outside  wall  of  the  school-house  with 
chalk,  "David  Dove  Is  A  Cruel  Beast,"  and  went 
away  somewhat  better  contented. 

Now,  with  all  his  seeming  dislike  to  use  the  rod, 
David  had  turns  of  severity,  and  then  he  was  far 
more  brutal  than  any  man  I  have  ever  known. 
Therefore  it  did  not  surprise  us  next  morning  that 
the  earlier  scholars  were  looking  with  wonder  and 
alarm  at  the  sentence  on  the  wall,  when  Dove,  ap 
pearing  behind  us,  ordered  us  to  enter  at  once. 

Going  to  his  desk,  he  put  on  his  spectacles,  which 
then  were  worn  astride  of  the  nose.  In  a  minute  he 
set  on  below  them  a  second  pair,  and  this  we  knew  to 
be  a  signal  of  coming  violence.  Then  he  stood  up, 
and  asked  who  had  written  the  opprobrious  epithet 


30  HUGH  WYNNE 

on  the  wall.  As  no  one  replied,  he  asked  several  in 
turn,  but  luckily  chose  the  girls,  thinking,  perhaps, 
that  they  would  weakly  betray  the  sinner.  Soon  he 
lost  patience,  and  cried  out  he  would  give  a  king's 
pound  to  know. 

When  he  had  said  this  over  and  over,  I  began  to 
reflect  that,  if  he  had  any  real  idea  of  doing  as  he 
promised,  a  pound  was  a  great  sum,  and  to  consider 
what  might  be  done  with  it  in  the  way  of  marbles  of 
Amsterdam,  tops,  and  of  certain  much-desired  books, 
for  now  this  latter  temptation  was  upon  me,  as  it 
has  been  ever  since.  As  I  sat,  and  Dove  thundered, 
I  remembered  how,  when  one  Stacy,  with  an  oath, 
assured  my  father  that  his  word  was  as  good  as  his 
bond,  my  parent  said  dryly  that  this  equality  left  him 
free  to  choose,  and  he  would  prefer  his  bond.  I  saw 
no  way  to  what  was  for  me  the  mysterious  security 
of  a  bond,  but  I  did  conceive  of  some  need  to  stiffen 
the  promise  Dove  had  made  before  I  faced  the 
penalty. 

Upon  this  I  held  up  a  hand,  and  the  master  cried, 
"What  is  it fw 

I  said,  "  Master,  if  a  boy  should  tell  thee  wouldst 
thou  surely  give  a  pound  ? " 

At  this  a  lad  called  "  Shame ! n  thinking  I  was  a 
telltale. 

When  Dove  called  silence  and  renewed  his  pledge, 
I,  overbold,  said,  "Master,  I  did  it,  and  now  wilt 
thou  please  to  give  me  a  pound— a  king's  pound?" 

"  I  will  give  thee  a  pounding !  "  he  roared  j  and 
upon  this  came  down  from  his  raised  form,  and  gave 


HUGH  WYNNE  31 

me  a  beating  so  terrible  and  cruel  that  at  last  the 
girls  cried  aloud,  and  he  let  me  drop  on  the  floor, 
sore  and  angry.  I  lay  still  awhile,  and  then  went  to 
my  seat.  As  I  bent  over  my  desk,  it  was  rather  the 
sense  that  I  had  been  wronged,  than  the  pain  of  the 
blows,  which  troubled  me. 

After  school,  refusing  speech  to  any,  I  walked 
home,  and  ministered  to  my  poor  little  bruised  body 
as  I  best  could.  Now  this  being  a  Saturday,  and 
therefore  a  half -holiday,  I  ate  at  two  with  my  father 
and  mother. 

Presently  my  father,  detecting  my  uneasy  move 
ments,  said,  "  Hast  thou  been  birched  to-day,  and  for 
what  badness  ? " 

Upon  this  my  mother  said  softly,  "  What  is  it,  my 
son  ?  Have  no  fear."  And  this  gentleness  being  too 
much  for  me,  I  fell  to  tears,  and  blurted  out  all  my 
little  tragedy. 

As  I  ended,  my  father  rose,  very  angry,  and  cried 
out,  "  Come  this  way !  "  But  my  mother  caught  me, 
1  saying,  "  No  !  no  !  Look,  John  !  see  his  poor  neck 
and  his  wrist !  What  a  brute !  I  tell  thee,  thou 
shalt  not !  it  were  a  sin.  Leave  him  to  me,"  and  she 
thrust  me  behind  her  as  if  for  safety. 

To  my  surprise,  he  said,  "  As  thou  wilt,"  and  my 
mother  hurried  me  away.  We  had  a  grave,  sweet 
talk,  and  there  it  ended  for  a  time.  I  learned  that, 
after  all,  the  woman's  was  the  stronger  will.  I  was 
put  to  bed  and  declared  to  have  a  fever,  and  given 
sulphur  and  treacle,  and  kept  out  of  the  paternal 
paths  for  a  mournful  day  of  enforced  rest. 


32  HUGH  WYNNE 

On  the  Monday  following  I  went  to  school  as 
usual,  but  not  without  fear  of  Dove.  When  we  were 
all  busy,  about  ten  o'clock,  I  was  amazed  to  hear  my 
father's  voice.  He  stood  before  the  desk,  and  ad 
dressed  Master  Dove  in  a  loud  voice,  meaning,  I 
suppose,  to  be  heard  by  all  of  us. 

"  David  Dove,"  he  said,  "  my  son  hath  been  guilty 
of  disrespect  to  thee,  and  to  thy  office.  I  do  not  say 
he  has  lied,  for  it  is  my  belief  that  thou  art  truly  an 
unjust  and  cruel  beast.  As  for  his  sin,  he  has  suf 
fered  enough  [I  felt  glad  of  this  final  opinion]  ;  but 
a  bargain  was  made.  He,  on  his  part,  for  a  consid 
eration  of  one  pound  sterling,  was  to  tell  thee  who 
wrote  certain  words.  He  has  paid  thee  and  thou 
hast  taken  interest  out  of  his  skin.  Indeed,  Friend 
Shylock,  I  think  he  weighs  less  by  a  pound.  Thou 
wilt  give  him  his  pound,  Master  David." 

Upon  this  a  little  maid  near  by  smiled  at  me, 
and  Warder  punched  me  in  the  ribs.  Master  Dove 
was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  answered  that  there 
was  no  law  to  make  him  pay,  and  that  he  had  spoken 
lightly,  as  one  might  say,  "  I  would  give  this  or  that 
to  know."  But  my  father  replied  at  once : 

"  The  boy  trusted  thee,  and  was  as  good  as  his 
word.  I  advise  thee  to  pay.  As  thou  art  Master  to 
punish  boys,  so  will  I,  David,  use  thy  birch  on  thee 
at  need,  and  trust  to  the  great  Master  to  reckon  with 
me  if  I  am  wrong." 

All  this  he  said  so  fiercely  that  I  trembled  with 
joy,  and  hoped  that  Dove  would  deny  him ;  but,  in 
place  of  this,  he  muttered  something  about  Meeting 


HUGH  WYNNE  33 

and  Friends,  and  meanwhile  searched  his  pockets 
and  brought  out  a  guinea.  This  my  father  dropped 
into  his  breeches  pocket,  saying,  "The  shilling  will 
be  for  interest"  (a  guinea  being  a  shilling  over  a 
king's  pound).  After  this,  turning  to  me,  he  said, 
"  Come  with  me,  Hugh,"  and  went  out  of  the  school- 
house,  I  following  after,  very  well  pleased,  and  think 
ing  of  my  guinea.  I  dared  not  ask  for  it,  and  I 
think  he  forgot  it.  He  went  along  homeward,  with 
his  head  bent  and  his  hands  behind  his  back.  In 
common,  he  walked  with  his  head  up  and  his  chin  set 
forward,  as  though  he  did  a  little  look  down  on  the 
world  of  other  men  j  and  this  in  truth  he  did,  being 
at  least  six  feet  three  inches  in  his  stocking-feet,  and 
with  no  lack  of  proportion  in  waist  or  chest. 

Next  day  I  asked  my  mother  of  my  guinea,  but  she 
laughed  gaily,  and  threw  up  her  hands,  and  cried,  "  A 
bad  debt !  a  bad  debt,  Hugh  !  Dost  thou  want  more 
interest  ?  My  father  used  to  say  they  had  a  proverb 
in  the  Midi,  i  If  the  devil  owe  thee  money  it  were 
best  to  lose  it.'  Le  didble!  Oh,  what  am  I  saying  ? 
Mon  fils,  forget  thy  debt.  What  did  thy  father  say  T  " 
And  I  told  it  again  to  her  amusement ;  but  she  said 
at  last,  very  seriously : 

"It  has  disturbed  thy  father  as  never  before  did 
anything  since  he  would  not  join  with  Friend  Brad 
ford  against  the  Stamp  Act.  I  would  I  had  seen  him 
then,  or  this  time.  I  like  sometimes  to  see  a  strong 
man  in  just  anger.  Oh,  mon  Dieu !  what  did  I 
say !  I  am  but  half  a  Quaker,  I  fear."  My  mother 
never  would  turn  away  from  the  creed  of  her  peo- 


34  HUGH  WYNNE 

pie,  but  she  did  not  altogether  fancy  the  ways  of 
Friends. 

"Eh,  mon  fits,  sometimes  I  say  naughty  words. 
Give  me  a  sweet  little  pat  on  the  cheek  for  my  bad 
ness,  and  always  come  to  me  with  all  thy  troubles." 
Then  I  kissed  her,  and  we  went  out  to  play  hide-and- 
find  in  the  orchard. 

My  father's  grim,  sarcastic  humour  left  him  as 
years  went  on,  and  he  became  as  entirely  serious 
as  I  ever  knew  a  man  to  be.  I  think  on  this  occa 
sion  his  after-annoyance,  which  endured  for  days, 
was  more  because  of  having  threatened  Dove  than 
for  any  other  cause.  He  no  doubt  regarded  me  as 
the  maker  of  the  mischief  which  had  tempted  him 
for  a  moment  to  forget  himself,  and  for  many  a  day 
his  unjust  severity  proved  that  he  did  not  readily 
forgive.  But  so  it  was  always.  My  mother  never 
failed  to  understand  me,  which  my  father  seemed 
rarely  able  to  do.  If  I  did  ill  he  used  the  strap  with 
little  mercy,  but  neither  in  these  early  years,  nor  in 
those  which  followed,  did  he  ever  give  me  a  word  of 
praise.  Many  years  afterward  I  found  a  guinea  in  a 
folded  paper,  laid  away  in  my  father's  desk.  On  the 
outer  cover  he  had  written,  "  This  belongs  to  Hugh. 
He  were  better  without  it." 

My  mother  scarce  ever  let  slip  her  little  French  ex 
pletives  or  phrases  in  my  father's  hearing.  He  hated 
all  French  things,  and  declared  the  language  did  not 
ring  true— that  it  was  a  slippery  tongue,  in  which  it 
was  easy  to  lie.  A  proud,  strong  man  he  was  in 
those  days,  of  fixed  beliefs,  and  of  unchanging  loy- 


HUGH  WYNNE  35 

alty  to  the  king.  In  his  own  house  he  was  feared  by 
his  son,  his  clerks,  and  his  servants  j  but  not  by  my 
mother,  who  charmed  him,  as  she  did  all  other  men, 
and  had  in  most  things  her  desire. 

Outside  of  his  own  walls  few  men  cared  to  oppose 
him.  He  was  rich,  and  coldly  despotic ;  a  man  exact 
and  just  in  business,  but  well  able,  and  as  willing,  to 
help  with  a  free  hand  whatever  cause  was  of  interest 
to  Friends.  My  Aunt  Gainor,  a  little  his  senior,  was 
one  of  the  few  over  whom  he  had  no  manner  of  con 
trol.  She  went  her  own  way,  and  it  was  by  no  means 
his  way,  as  I  shall  make  more  clear  by  and  by. 

Two  days  later  I  was  taken  to  the  academy,  or  the 
college,  as  some  called  it,  which  is  now  the  university. 
My  father  wrote  my  name,  as  you  may  see  it  in  the 
catalogue,  and  his  own  signature,  with  the  date  of  6th 
ninth  4th,  1763.  Beneath  it  is  the  entry  of  John  War 
der  and  his  father,  Joseph ;  for  Jack  had  also  been 
removed  from  Dove's  dominion  because  of  what  my 
father  said  to  Joseph,  a  man  always  pliable,  and  ad 
vised  to  do  what  larger  men  thought  good.  Thus  it 
came  about  that  my  friend  Jack  and  I  were  by  good 
fortune  kept  in  constant  relation.  Our  schoolmate, 
the  small  maid  so  slight  of  limb,  so  dark  and  tearful, 
was  soon  sent  away  to  live  with  an  aunt  in  Bristol, 
on  the  Delaware,  having  become  an  orphan  by  the 
death  of  her  mother.  Thus  it  came  about  that  Dar- 
thea  Peniston  passed  out  of  my  life  for  many  years, 
having  been,  through  the  accident  of  her  tenderness, 
the  means  for  me  of  a  complete  and  fortunate  change. 


Ill 


|HE  academy  was,  and  still  is,  a  plain 
brick  building,  set  back  from  Fourth 
street,  and  having  a  large  gravelled  space 
in  front  and  also  at  the  back.  The  main 
school-room  occupied  its  whole  westward 
length,  and  upstairs  was  a  vast  room,  with  bare  joists 
above,  in  which,  by  virtue  of  the  deed  of  gift,  any 
Christian  sect  was  free  to  worship  if  temporarily  de 
prived  of  a  home.  Here  the  great  Whitefield  preached, 
and  here  generations  of  boys  were  taught.  Behind 
the  western  playground  was  the  graveyard  of  Christ 
Church.  He  was  thought  a  brave  lad  who,  after 
school  at  dusk  in  winter,  dared  to  climb  over  and 
search  around  the  tombs  of  the  silent  dead  for  a  lost 
ball  or  what  not. 

I  was  mightily  afraid  of  the  academy.  The  birch 
was  used  often  and  with  severity,  and,  as  I  soon 
found,  there  was  war  between  the  boys  and  the 
town  fellows  who  lived  to  north  and  east.  I  was 
also  to  discover  other  annoyances  quite  as  little  to 
the  taste  of  Friends,  such  as  stone  fights  or  snowball 
skirmishes.  Did  time  permit,  I  should  like  well  to 
linger  long  over  this  school  life.  The  college,  as  it 

36 


HUGH  WYNNE  37 

was  officially  called,  had  a  great  reputation,  and  its 
early  catalogues  are  rich  with  names  of  those  who 
made  an  empire.  This  task  I  leave  to  other  pens, 
and  hasten  to  tell  my  own  personal  story. 

In  my  friend  Jack  Warder's  journal  there  is  a  kind 
page  or  two  as  to  what  manner  of  lad  I  was  in  his 
remembrance  of  me  in  after-years.  I  like  to  think 
it  was  a  true  picture. 

"When  Hugh  Wynne  and  I  went  to  school  at 
the  academy  on  Fourth  street,  south  of  Arch,  I  used 
to  envy  him  his  strength.  At  twelve  he  was  as  tall 
as  are  most  lads  at  sixteen,  but  possessed  of  such 
activity  and  muscular  power  as  are  rarely  seen,  bid 
ding  fair  to  attain,  as  he  did  later,  the  height  and 
massive  build  of  his  father.  He  was  a  great  lover 
of  risk,  and  not,  as  I  have  always  been,  fearful. 
When  we  took  apples,  after  the  fashion  of  all  Adam's 
young  descendants,  he  was  as  like  as  not  to  give 
them  away.  I  think  he  went  with  us  on  these,  and 
some  wilder  errands,  chiefly  because  of  his  fondness 
for  danger,  a  thing  I  could  never  comprehend.  He 
still  has  his  mother's  great  eyes  of  blue,  and  a  fair, 
clear  skin.  God  bless  him!  Had  I  never  known 
him  I  might  perhaps  have  been,  as  to  one  thing,  a 
happier  man,  but  I  had  been  less  deserving  of  such 
good  fortune  as  has  come  to  me  in  life.  For  this  is 
one  of  the  uses  of  friends :  that  we  consider  how  such 
and  such  a  thing  we  are  moved  to  do  might  appear 
to  them.  And  this  for  one  of  my  kind,  who  have 
had— nay,  who  have— many  weaknesses,  has  been 
why  Hugh  Wynne  counts  for  so  much  to  me. 


38  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  We,  with  two  other  smaller  boys,  were,  at  that 
time,  the  only  sons  of  Friends  at  the  academy,  and 
were,  thanks  to  the  brute  Dove,  better  grounded  in 
the  humanities  than  were  some,  although  we  were 
late  in  entering." 

I  leave  this  and  other  extracts  as  they  were  writ. 
A  more  upright  gentleman  than  John  Warder  I 
know  not,  nor  did  ever  know.  What  he  meant  by 
his  weaknesses  I  cannot  tell,  and  as  to  the  meaning 
of  one  phrase,  which  he  does  not  here  explain,  these 
pages  shall  perhaps  discover. 

Not  long  after  our  entrance  at  the  academy,  my 
father  charged  me  one  morning  with  a  note  to  my 
aunt,  Gainor  Wynne,  which  I  was  to  deliver  when 
the  morning  session  was  over.  As  this  would  make 
me  late,  in  case  her  absence  delayed  a  reply,  I  was 
to  remain  and  eat  my  midday  meal.  My  father  was 
loath  always  to  call  upon  his  sister.  She  had  early 
returned  to  the  creed  of  her  ancestors,  and  sat  on 
Sundays  in  a  great  square  pew  at  Christ  Church,  to 
listen  to  the  Rev.  Robert  Jennings.  Hither,  in  Sep 
tember  of  1763,  my  aunt  took  me,  to  my  father's  in 
dignation,  to  hear  the  great  Mr.  Whiten  eld  preach. 

Neither  Aunt  Gainor's  creed,  dress,  house,  nor 
society  pleased  her  brother.  She  had  early  made 
clear,  in  her  decisive  way,  that  I  was  to  be  her  heir, 
and  she  was,  I  may  add,  a  woman  of  large  estate.  I 
was  allowed  to  visit  her  as  I  pleased.  Indeed,  I  did 
so  often.  Hiked  no  one  better,  always  excepting  my 
mother.  Why,  with  my  father's  knowledge  of  her 
views,  I  was  thus  left  free  I  cannot  say.  He  was 


HUGH  WYNNE  39 

the  last  of  men  to  sacrifice  his  beliefs  to  motives 
of  gain. 

When  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  her  house  on  Arch 
street,  opposite  the  Friends'  Meeting-house,  a  black 
boy,  dressed  as  a  page,  let  me  in.  He  was  clad  in 
gray  armozine,  a  sort  of  corded  stuff,  with  red  but 
tons,  and  he  wore  a  red  turban.  As  my  aunt  was 
gone  to  drive,  on  a  visit  to  that  Madam  Penn  who 
was  once  Miss  Allen,  I  was  in  no  hurry,  and  was 
glad  to  look  about  me.  The  parlour,  a  great  room 
with  three  windows  on  the  street,  afforded  a  strange 
contrast  to  my  sober  home.  There  were  Smyrna 
rugs  on  a  polished  floor,  a  thing  almost  unheard  of. 
Indeed,  people  came  to  see  them.  The  furniture  was 
all  of  red  walnut,  and  carved  in  shells  and  flower  re 
liefs.  There  were  so  many  tables,  little  and  larger, 
with  claw-feet  or  spindle-legs,  that  one  had  to  be 
careful  not  to  overturn  their  loads  of  Chinese  drag 
ons,  ivory  carvings,  grotesque  Delft  beasts,  and  fans, 
French  or  Spanish  or  of  the  Orient.  There  was  also 
a  spinet,  and  a  corner  closet  of  books,  of  which 
every  packet  brought  her  a  variety.  Upstairs  was  a 
fair  room  full  of  volumes,  big  and  little,  as  I  found 
to  my  joy  rather  later,  and  these  were  of  all  kinds : 
some  good,  and  some  of  them  queer,  or  naughty. 
Over  the  wide,  white  fireplace  was  a  portrait  of  her 
self  by  the  elder  Peale,  but  I  prefer  the  one  now  in 
my  library.  This  latter  hung,  at  the  time  I  speak  of, 
between  the  windows.  It  was  significant  of  my  aunt's 
idea  of  her  own  importance  that  she  should  have 
wished  to  possess  two  portraits  of  herself.  The  lat- 


40  HUGH  WYNNE 

ter  was  painted  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  when  she 
was  in  England  in  1750,  and  represents  her  as  a  fine, 
large  woman  with  features  which  were  too  big  for 
loveliness  in  youth,  but  in  after-years  went  well  with 
her  abundant  gray  hair  and  unusual  stature ;  for,  like 
the  rest  of  us,  she  was  tall,  of  vigorous  and  whole 
some  build  and  colour,  with  large,  well-shaped  hands, 
and  the  strength  of  a  man— I  might  add,  too,  with 
the  independence  of  a  man.  She  went  her  own 
way,  conducted  the  business  of  her  estate,  which 
was  ample,  with  skill  and  ability,  and  asked  advice 
from  no  one.  Like  my  father,  she  had  a  liking  to 
control  those  about  her,  was  restlessly  busy,  and 
was  never  so  pleased  as  when  engaged  in  arranging 
other  people's  lives,  or  meddling  with  the  making 
of  matches. 

To  this  ample  and  luxurious  house  came  the  bet 
ter  class  of  British  officers,  and  ombre  and  quadrille 
were  often,  I  fear,  played  late  into  the  long  nights  of 
winter.  Single  women,  after  a  certain  or  uncertain 
age,  were  given  a  brevet  title  of  ."  Mistress."  Mis 
tress  Gainor  Wynne  lost  or  won  with  the  coolness  of 
an  old  gambler,  and  this  habit,  perhaps  more  than 
aught  beside,  troubled  my  father.  Sincere  and  con 
sistent  in  his  views,  I  can  hardly  think  that  my 
father  was,  after  all,  unable  to  resist  the  worldly  ad 
vantages  which  my  aunt  declared  should  be  mine. 
It  was,  in  fact,  difficult  to  keep  me  out  of  the  obvi 
ous  risks  this  house  and  company  provided  for  a 
young  person  like  myself.  He  must  have  trusted  to 
the  influence  of  my  home  to  keep  me  in  the  ways  of 


HUGH  WYNNE  41 

Friends.  It  is  also  to  be  remembered,  as  regards  my 
father's  motives,  that  my  Aunt  Gainor  was  my  only 
relative,  since  of  the  Owens  none  were  left. 

My  mother  was  a  prime  favourite  with  this  master 
ful  lady.  She  loved  nothing  better  than  to  give  her 
fine  silk  petticoats  or  a  pearl-coloured  satin  gown  j  and 
if  this  should  nowadays  amaze  Friends,  let  them  but 
look  in  the  "  Observer/'  and  see  what  manner  of  fin 
ery  was  advertised  in  1778  as  stole  from  our  friend, 
Sarah  Fisher,  sometime  Sarah  Logan,  a  much  re 
spected  member  of  Meeting.  In  this,  as  in  all  else, 
my  mother  had  her  way,  and,  like  some  of  the 
upper  class  of  Quakers,  wore  at  times  such  raiment 
as  fifty  years  later  would  have  surely  brought  about 
a  visit  from  a  committee  of  overseers. 

Waiting  for  Aunt  Gainor,  I  fell  upon  an  open 
parcel  of  books  just  come  by  the  late  spring  packet. 
Among  these  turned  up  a  new  and  fine  edition  of 
"  Captain  Gulliver's  Travels,"  by  Mr.  Dean  Swift.  I 
lit  first,  among  these  famous  adventures,  on  an  ex 
traordinary  passage,  so  wonderful,  indeed,  and  so 
amusing,  that  I  heard  not  the  entrance  of  my  father, 
who  at  the  door  had  met  my  aunt,  and  with  her  some 
fine  ladies  of  the  governor's  set.  There  were  Mrs. 
Ferguson,  too  well  known  in  the  politics  of  later 
years,  but  now  only  a  beautiful  and  gay  woman, 
Madam  Allen,  and  Madam  Chew,  the  wife  of  the 
Attorney-General.  • 

They  were  eagerly  discussing,  and  laughingly  in 
quiring  of  my  father,  what  colour  of  masks  for  the 
street  was  to  be  preferred.  He  was  in  no  wise  em- 


42  HUGH  WYNNE 

barrassed  by  these  fine  dames,  and  never,  to  my 
thinking,  was  seen  to  better  advantage  than  among 
what  he  called  "  world's  people.77  He  seemed  to  me 
more  really  at  home  than  among  Friends,  and  as  he 
towered,  tall,  and  gravely  courteous  in  manner,  I 
thought  him  a  grand  gentleman. 

As  I  looked  up,  the  young  Miss  Chew,  who  after 
ward  married  Colonel  Eager  Howard,  was  saying 
saucily,  "  Does  not  Madam  Wynne  wear  a  mask  for 
her  skin  ?  It  is  worth  keeping,  Mr.  Wynne." 

"  Let  me  recommend  to  you  a  vizard  with  silver 
buttons  to  hold  in  the  mouth,  or,  better,  a  riding- 
mask/7  cried  Aunt  Grainor,  pleased  at  this  gentle 
badgering,  "like  this,  John.  See,  a  flat  silver  plate 
to  hold  between  the  teeth.  It  is  the  last  thing.77 

"  White  silk  would  suit  her  best,'7  cried  Mrs.  Fergu 
son,  "or  green,  with  a  chin-curtain— a  loo-mask. 
Which  would  you  have,  sir?77 

"Indeed,77  he  said  quietly,  "her  skin  is  good  enough. 
I  know  no  way  to  better  it.77 

Then  they  all  laughed,  pelting  the  big  man  with 
many  questions,  until  he  could  not  help  but  laugh, 
as  he  declared  he  was  overwhelmed,  and  would  come 
on  his  business  another  day.  But  on  this  the  women 
would  not  stay,  and  took  themselves  and  their  high 
bonnets  and  many  petticoats  out  of  the  room,  each 
dropping  a  curtsey  at  the  door,  and  he  bowing  low, 
like  Mr.  John  Penn,  as  never  before  I  had  seen 
him  do. 

No  sooner  were  they  gone  than  he  desired  me  to 
give  him  the  note  he  had  written  to  his  sister,  since 


HUGH  WYNNE  43 

now  it  was  not  needed,  and  then  he  inquired  what 
book  I  was  reading.  Aunt  Gainor  glanced  at  it,  and 
replied  for  me,  "A  book  of  travels,  John,  very  im 
proving  too.  Take  it  home,  Hugh,  and  read  it.  If 
you  find  in  it  no  improprieties,  it  may  be  recom 
mended  to  your  father."  She  loved  nothing  better 
than  to  tease  him. 

"  I  see  not  what  harm  there  could  be  in  travels," 
he  returned.  "  Thou  hast  my  leave.  Gainor,  what 
is  this  I  hear  ?  Thou  wouldst  have  had  me  sell  thee 
for  a  venture  threescore  hogsheads  of  tobacco  from 
Annapolis.  I  like  not  to  trade  with  my  sister,  nor 
that  she  should  trade  at  all ;  and  now,  when  I  have 
let  them  go  to  another,  I  hear  that  it  is  thou  who 
art  the  real  buyer.  I  came  hither  to  warn  thee  that 
other  cargoes  are  to  arrive.  Thou  wilt  lose." 

Aunt  Gainor  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  but  let 
loose  the  linen  safeguard  petticoat  she  wore  against 
mud  or  dust  when  riding,  and  appeared  in  a  rich  bro 
cade  of  gray  silken  stuff,  and  a  striped  under-gown. 
When  she  had  put  off  her  loose  camlet  over- jacket, 
she  said,  "  Will  you  have  a  glass  of  Madeira,  or  shall 
it  be  Hollands,  John  ?  Ring  the  beU,  Hugh." 

"  Hollands,"  said  my  father. 

"  What  will  you  give  me  for  your  tobacco  to-day, 
John?" 

"  Why  dost  thou  trifle  ? "  he  returned. 

"  I  sold  it  again,  John.  I  am  the  better  by  an  hun 
dred  pounds.  Two  tobacco-ships  are  wrecked  on 
Hinlopen.  An  express  is  come.  Have  you  not 
heard?" 


44  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  Farewell/'  he  said,  rising.  He  made  no  comment 
on  her  news.  I  had  an  idea  that  he  would  not  have 
been  unhappy  had  she  lost  on  her  venture. 

Joseph  Warder  was  her  agent  then  and  afterward. 
She  rarely  lost  on  her  purchases.  Although  gener 
ous,  and  even  lavish,  she  dearly  loved  a  good  bar 
gain,  and,  I  believe,  liked  the  game  far  more  than  she 
cared  for  success  in  the  playing  of  it. 

"Come,  Hugh,"  she  said,  "let  us  eat  and  drink. 
Take  the  book  home,  and  put  it  away  for  your  own 
reading.  Here  is  sixpence  out  of  my  gains.  I  hope 
you  will  never  need  to  trade,  and,  indeed,  why  should 
you,  whether  I  live  or  die  ?  How  would  the  king's 
service  suit  you,  and  a  pair  of  colours  ? " 

I  said  I  should  like  it. 

"  There  is  a  pretty  tale,  Hugh,  of  the  French  gen 
tlemen,  who,  being  poor,  have  to  make  money  in  com 
merce.  They  leave  their  swords  with  a  magistrate, 
and  when  they  are  become  rich  enough  take  them 
back  again.  There  is  some  pleasing  ceremony,  but 
I  forget.  The  Wynnes  have  been  long  enough  in 
drab  and  trade.  It  is  time  we  took  back  our  swords, ' 
and  quitted  bow-thouing  and  bow-theeing." 

I  said  I  did  not  understand. 

"Oh,  you  will,'7  said  Aunt  Gainor,  giving  me  a 
great  apple-dumpling.  "  Take  some  molasses.  Oh, 
as  much  as  you  please.  I  shall  look  away,  as  I  do 
when  the  gentlemen  take  their  rum." 

You  may  be  sure  I  obeyed  her.  As  to  much  that 
she  said,  I  was  shocked  ;  but  I  never  could  resist  a 
laugh,  and  so  we  made  merry  like  children,  as  was 


HUGH  WYNNE  45 

usual,  for,  as  she  used  to  say,  "To  learn  when  to 
laugh  and  when  not  to  laugh  is  an  education." 

When  my  meal  was  over,  and  my  stomach  and  my 
pockets  all  full,  Aunt  Gainor  bade  me  sit  on  her 
knees,  and  began  to  tell  me  about  what  fine  gentle 
men  were  the  Wynnes,  and  how  foolish  my  grand 
father  had  been  to  turn  Quaker  and  give  up  fox-hunt 
ing  and  the  old  place.  I  was  told,  too,  how  much  she 
had  lost  to  Mr.  Penn  last  night,  and  more  that  was 
neither  well  for  me  to  hear  nor  wise  for  her  to  tell  j 
but  as  to  this  she  cared  little,  and  she  sent  me  away 
then,  as  far  too  many  times  afterward,  full  of  my  own 
importance,  and  of  desire  to  escape  some  day  from 
the  threatened  life  of  the  ledger  and  the  day-book. 

At  last  she  said,  "  You  are  getting  too  heavy,  Hugh. 
Handsome  Mrs.  Ferguson  says  you  are  too  big  to  be 
kissed,  and  not  old  enough  to  kiss,"  and  so  she  bade 
me  go  forth  to  the  afternoon  session  of  the  academy. 

After  two  weeks  at  the  academy  I  got  my  first 
lesson  in  the  futility  of  non-resistance,  so  that  all 
the  lessons  of  my  life  in  favour  of  this  doctrine  were, 
of  a  sudden,  rendered  vain.  We  were  going  home  in 
the  afternoon,  gay  and  happy,  Jack  Warder  to  take 
supper  with  me,  and  to  use  a  boat  my  aunt  had 
given  me. 

Near  to  High  street  was  a  vacant  lot  full  of  bushes 
and  briers.  Here  the  elder  lads  paused,  and  one  said, 
"  Wynne,  you  are  to  fight." 

I  replied,  "  Why  should  I  fight  ?    I  will  not." 

"  But  it  is  to  get  your  standing  in  the  school,  and 
Tom  Alloway  is  to  fight  you." 


46  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  This  was  a  famous  occasion  in  our  lives,"  writes 
my  friend  Jack  j  "  for,  consider :  I,  who  was  a  girl  for 
timidity,  was  sure  to  have  my  turn  next,  and  here 
were  we  two  little  fellows,  who  had  heard  every  First- 
day,  and  ever  and  ever  at  home,  that  all  things  were 
to  be  suffered  of  all  men  (and  of  boys  too,  I  presume). 
I  was  troubled  for  Hugh,  but  I  noticed  that  while  he 
said  he  would  not  fight  he  was  buttoning  up  his  jacket 
and  turning  back  the  cuff  of  one  sleeve.  Also  he 
smiled  as  he  said,  'No,  I  cannot;7  and  many  times 
since  I  have  seen  him  merry  in  danger. 

"  For,  of  a  truth,  never  later  did  he  or  I  feel  the 
sense  of  a  great  peril  as  we  did  that  day,  with  the 
bigger  boys  hustling  us,  and  Alloway  crying,  l  Cow 
ard  ! '  I  looked  about  for  some  man  who  would  help 
us,  but  there  was  no  one ;  only  a  cow  hobbled  near 
by.  She  looked  up,  and  then  went  on  chewing  her 
cud.  I,  standing  behind  Hugh,  said,  l  Run !  run !' 

"The  counsel  seemed  good  to  me  who  gave  it. 
As  I  think  on  it  now,  I  was  in  great  perplexity  of 
soul,  and  had  a  horrible  fear  as  to  bodily  hurt.  I 
turned,  followed  by  Hugh,  and  ran  fleetly  across  the 
open  ground  and  through  the  bushes.  About  mid 
way  I  looked  back.  Two  lads  were  near  upon  us, 
when  I  saw  Hugh  drop  upon  his  hands  and  knees. 
Both  fellows  rolled  over  him,  and  he  called  out,  as 
they  fell  to  beating  him,  i  Run,  Jack ! ' 

"  But  I  was  no  longer  so  minded.  I  kicked  one  boy, 
and  struck  another,  and  even  now  recall  how  a  strange 
joy  captured  me  when  I  struck  the  first  blow." 

There  was  a  fine  scrimmage,  for  no  quarter  was 


HUGH  WYNNE  47 

asked  or  given,  and  I  saw  my  poor  Jack's  girl  face 
bloody.  This  was  the  last  I  remember  clearly,  for  the 
lust  of  battle  was  on  me,  and  I  can  recall  no  more  of 
what  chanced  for  a  little,  than  I  could  in  later  years 
of  the  wild  melley  on  the  main  street  of  Germantown, 
or  of  the  struggle  in  the  redoubt  at  Yorktown. 

Presently  we  were  cast  to  right  and  left  by  a  strong 
hand,  and,  looking  up,  as  I  stood  fierce  and  panting, 
I  saw  Friend  Eupert  Forest,  and  was  overwhelmed 
with  fear ;  for  often  on  First-day  I  had  heard  him 
preach  solemnly,  and  always  it  was  as  to  turning  the 
other  cheek,  and  on  the  wickedness  of  profane  lan 
guage.  Just  now  he  seemed  pleased  rather  than 
angered,  and  said,  smiling: 

"  This  is  a  big  war,  boys.     What  is  it  about  ?  n 

I  said,  "  I  must  fight  for  my  standing,  and  I  will 
not." 

"I  think  thou  wert  scarcely  of  that  mind  just 
now.  There  will  be  bad  blood  until  it  is  over." 

To  this  I  replied,  "  It  is  Alloway  I  am  to  fight." 

To  my  surprise,  he  went  on  to  say,  "  Then  take  off 
thy  jacket  and  stand  up,  and  no  kicking." 

I  asked  nothing  better,  and  began  to  laugh.  At 
this  my  foe,  who  was  bigger  and  older  than  I,  cried 
out  that  I  would  laugh  on  the  other  side  of  my 
mouth — a  queer  boy  phrase  of  which  I  could  never 
discover  the  meaning. 

"  And  now,  fair  play,"  said  Friend  Forest.  "  Keep 
cool,  Hugh,  and  watch  his  eyes." 

I  felt  glad  that  he  was  on  my  side,  and  we  fell  to 
with  no  more  words.  I  was  no  match  for  the  prac- 


48  HUGH  WYNNE 

tised  fists  of  my  antagonist  ;  but  I  was  the  stronger, 
and  I  kept  my  wits  better  than  might  have  been  ex 
pected.  At  last  I  got  his  head  under  my  arm  with  a 
grip  on  his  gullet,  and  so  mauled  him  with  my  right 
fist  that  Friend  Forest  pulled  me  away,  and  my  man 
staggered  back,  bloody,  and  white  too,  while  I  was 
held  like  a  dog  in  leash. 

"  He  hath  enough,  I  think.     Ask  him." 
I  cried  out,  "  No  !     Damn  him  !  "    It  was  my  first 
oath. 

"  Hush  !  n  cried  Forest.  "  No  profane  language." 
"  I  will  not  speak  to  him,"  said  I,  "  and— and— he 
is  a  beast  of  the  pit."  Now  this  fine  statement  I 
had  come  upon  in  a  book  of  Mr.  William  Penn's  my 
father  owned,  wherein  the  governor  had  denounced 
one  Mr.  Muggleton. 

Friend  Forest  laughed  merrily.  "  Thou  hast  thy 
standing,  lad."  For  Alloway  walked  sullenly  away, 
not  man  enough  to  take  more  or  to  confess  defeat. 
Jack,  who  was  still  white,  said : 

"  It  is  my  turn  now,  and  which  shall  it  be  ? " 
"  Shade  of  Fox !  "  cried  Friend  Forest.     "  The  war 
is  over.    Come,  boys,  I  must  see  you  well  out  of  this/7 
And  so  reassuring  us,  he  went  down  Fourth  street; 
and  to  my  home. 

My  father  was  in  the  sitting-room,  taking  his  long- 
stemmed  reed  pipe  at  his  ease.  He  rose  as  we  fol 
lowed  Friend  Forest  into  the  room. 

"  "Well,"  he  said,  "  what  coil  is  this  ? "  For  we  were 
bloody,  and  hot  with  fight  and  wrath,  and,  as  to  our 
garments,  in  very  sad  disorder. 


HUGH  WYNNE  49 

Friend  Forest  very  quietly  related  our  story,  and 
made  much  of  his  own  share  in  the  renewal  of  our 
battle.  To  my  surprise,  my  father  smiled. 

"  It  seems  plain/7  he  said,  "  that  the  lads  were  not 
to  blame.  But  how  wilt  thou  answer  to  the  Meet 
ing,  Rupert  Forest  ? " 

"  To  it,  to  thee,  to  any  man,"  said  the  Quaker. 

"It  is  but  a  month  ago  that  thy  case  was  before 
Friends  because  of  thy  having  beaten  Friend  Wain's 
man.  It  will  go  ill  with  thee — ill,  I  fear." 

"  And  who  is  to  spread  it  abroad  ? " 

"Not  I,"  said  my  father. 

"  I  knew  that,"  returned  the  Friend,  simply.  "  I 
am  but  a  jack-in-the-box  Quaker,  John.  I  am  in  and 
out  in  a  moment,  and  then  I  go  back  and  repent." 

"  Let  us  hope  so.  Go  to  thy  mother,  Hugh ;  and 
as  to  thee,  John  Warder,  wait  until  I  send  with  thee 
a  note  to  thy  father.  There  are  liquors  on  the  table, 
Friend  Forest." 

My  mother  set  us  in  order,  and  cried  a  little,  and 
said: 

"  I  am  glad  he  was  well  beaten.  Thou  shouldst 
never  fight,  my  son  j  but  if  thou  must,  let  it  be  so 
that  thy  adversary  repent  of  it.  Mon  Dieu!  mon 
Dim  I  fen  ai  peur;  the  wild  Welsh  blood  of  these 
Wynnes !  And  thy  poor  little  nose— how  7t  is 
swelled !  " 

Not  understanding  her  exclamations,  Jack  said  as 
much,  but  she  answered  : 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  fashion  of  speech  we  French  have.  I 
shall  never  be  cured  of  it,  I  fear.  This  wild  blood— 


50  HUGH  WYNNE 

what  will  come  of  it?"  And  she  seemed— as  Jack 
writes  long  after,  being  more  observing  than  I— as 
if  she  were  looking  away  into  the  distance  of  time, 
thinking  of  what  might  come  to  pass.  She  had, 
indeed,  strange  insight,  and  even  then,  as  I  knew 
later,  had  her  fears  and  unspoken  anxieties.  And 
so,  with  a  plentiful  supper,  ended  a  matter  which 
was,  I  may  say,  a  critical  point  in  my  life. 


IV 


FTER  this  my  days  went  by  more  peace 
fully.  The  help  and  example  of  Jack 
assisted  me  greatly  in  my  lessons,  which 
I  did  little  relish.  I  was  more  fond  of 
reading,  and  devoured  many  books  as  I 
sat  under  our  orchard  trees  in  the  spring,  or  nestled 
up  to  the  fire  on  the  long  winter  evenings,  coiled  on 
the  settle,  that  its  high  back  might  keep  oif  drafts. 
My  aunt  lent  me  an  abundance  of  books  after  that 
famous  "  Travels n  of  Mr.  Gulliver.  Now  and  then 
my  father  looked  at  what  she  gave  me,  but  he  soon 
tired  of  this,  and  fell  asleep  in  the  great  oak  chair 
which  Governor  Penn  gave  my  grandfather. 

Many  volumes,  and  some  queer  ones,  I  fell  upon  in 
my  aunt's  house,  but,  save  once,  as  to  the  naughti 
ness  of  Mrs.  Aphra  Behn,  she  never  interfered.  We 
liked  greatly  a  book  called  "  Peter  Wilkins,"  by  one 
Paltock,  full  of  a  queer  folk,  who  had  winged  "  graun- 
dees,"  a  sort  of  crimson  robe  made  of  folds  of  their 
own  skin.  None  read  it  now.  My  dear  Jack  fancied 
it  much  more  than  I. 

I  was  nigh  to  fifteen  before  we  read  "Bobinson 
Crusoe,"  but  even  earlier  I  devoured  at  my  aunt's 

51 


52  HUGH  WYNNE 

"Captain  Jack"  and  "The  History  of  the  Devil.'' 
The  former  book  filled  us  with  delight.  Jack  and 
I  used  to  row  over  to  Windmill  Island,  on  the  great 
Delaware,  and  there  at  the  south  end  we  built  a  hut, 
and  slew  bullfrogs,  and  found  steps  on  the  sand,  I 
being  thereafter  Friday,  and  Jack  my  master.  We 
made,  too,  a  sail  and  mast  for  my  boat,  and,  thus 
aided,  sailed  of  Saturdays  up  and  down  the  noble 
river,  which  I  have  always  loved. 

A  still  greater  joy  was  to  go  in  our  chaise  with  my 
mother  to  the  governor's  woods,  which  extended  from 
Broad  street  to  the  Schuylkill,  and  from  Callowhill 
to  South  street.  There  we  tied  the  horse,  and  under 
the  great  trees  we  found  in  spring  arbutus,  even  be 
neath  the  snow,  and  later  fetched  thence  turkey-foot 
ferns,  and  wild  honeysuckle,  and  quaker-ladies,  with 
jack-in-the-pulpits  and  fearful  gray  corpse-lights  hid 
away  in  the  darker  woods.  In  the  forest  my  mother 
seemed  even  younger  than  at  home,  and  played  with 
us,  and  told  us  quaint  tales  of  her  French  people,  or 
fairy  stories  of  Giant  Jack  and  others,  which  were 
by  no  means  such  as  Friends  approved. 

In  our  house  one  same  stern,  unbending  rule  pre 
vailed.  I  have  been  told  by  my  aunt,  Gainor  Wynne, 
that  when  he  was  young  my  father  was  not  always  so 
steadfast  in  conduct  as  to  satisfy  Friends.  When  I 
was  old  enough  to  observe  and  think,  he  had  surely 
become  strict  enough;  but  this  severity  of  opinion 
and  action  increased  with  years,  and  showed  in  ways 
which  made  life  difficult  for  those  near  to  him.  In 
fact,  before  I  attained  manhood  the  tinted  arms  and 


HUGH  WYNNE  53 

the  picture  of  Wyncote  were  put  away  in  the  attic 
room.  My  mother's  innocent  love  of  ornament  also 
became  to  him  a  serious  annoyance,  and  these  pecu 
liarities  seemed  at  last  to  deepen  whenever  the  polit 
ical  horizon  darkened.  At  such  times  he  became 
silent,  and  yet  more  keen  than  usual  to  detect  and 
denounce  anything  in  our  home  life  which  was  not 
to  his  liking. 

The  affairs  of  a  young  fellow  between  the  ages  of 
childhood  and  younger  manhood  can  have  but  meagre 
interest.  Our  school  life  went  on,  and  while  we 
worked  or  played,  our  elders  saw  the  ever-increas 
ing  differences  between  king  and  colonies  becoming 
year  by  year  more  difficult  of  adjustment.  Except 
when  some  noisy  crisis  arose,  they  had  for  us  lads 
but  little  interest. 

Most  people  used  the  city  landings,  or  lightered 
their  goods  from  ships  in  the  stream.  We,  however, 
had  a  great  dock  built  out  near  to  the  mouth  of  Dock 
Creek,  and  a  warehouse.  Hither  came  sloops  from 
my  father's  plantation  of  tobacco,  near  Annapolis, 
and  others  from  the  "permitted  islands,"  the  Cape 
de  Verde  and  the  Madeiras.  Staves  for  barrels, 
tobacco,  and  salt  fish  were  the  exports,  and  in  return 
came  Eastern  goods  brought  to  these  islands,  and 
huge  tuns  of  Madeira  wine.  Rum,  too,  arrived  from 
New  England,  and  salted  mackerel.  What  else  my 
father  imported,  of  French  goods  or  tea,  reached  us 
from  England,  for  we  were  not  allowed  to  trade  with 
the  continent  of  Europe  nor  directly  with  India. 

Once  my  father  took  me  with  him  to  Lewes,  near 


54  HUGH  WYNNE 

Cape  Hinlopen,  on  one  of  his  ships,  and  to  my  joy  we 
were  met  there  by  Tom,our  black  slave,  with  horses,  and 
rode  back  during  two  days  by  Newcastle  and  Chester. 
As  I  rode  ill,  of  course,  and  was  sore  for  a  week,  my 
father  thought  it  well  that  I  should  learn  to  ride,  and 
this  exercise  I  took  to  easily.  Just  before  I  was  six 
teen  my  aunt  gave  me  a  horse,  and  after  we  had  sep 
arated  abruptly  a  few  times,  and  no  harm  to  any,  I 
became  the  master,  and  soon  an  expert  rider,  as  was 
needful  in  a  land  where  most  long  journeys  were 
made  on  horseback. 

It  seems  to  me  now,  as  I  look  back,  that  the  events 
of  life  were  preparing  me  and  my  friend  Jack  for 
what  was  to  follow.  Our  boating  made  every  part 
of  the  two  rivers  familiar.  Now  that  I  had  a  horse, 
Jack's  father,  who  would  always  do  for  him  readily 
what  my  Aunt  Gainor  did  for  me,  yielded  to  his 
desire  to  ride  ;  and  so  it  was  that  we  began,  as  lei 
sure  served,  to  extend  our  rides  to  Germantown,  or 
even  to  Chestnut  Hill.  Thus  all  the  outlying  coun 
try  became  well  known  to  both  of  us,  and  there  was 
not  a  road,  a  brook,  or  a  hill  which  we  did  not  know. 

Until  this  happy  time  I  had  been  well  pleased  to 
follow  my  aunt  on  a  pillion  behind  her  servant, 
Caesar,  but  now  I  often  went  with  her,  perched  on 
my  big  horse,  and  got  from  my  aunt,  an  excellent 
horsewoman,  some  snarp  lessons  as  to  leaping,  and 
certain  refinements  in  riding  that  she  had  seen  or 
known  of  in  London. 

A  Captain  Montresor— he  who  afterward,  when  a 
colonel,  was  Howe's  engineer— used  to  ride  with  her 


HUGH  WYNNE  55 

in  the  spring  of  '69.  He  was  a  tall,  stout  man  of 
middle  age,  and  much  spoken  of  as  likely  to  marry 
my  Aunt  Gainor,  although  she  was  older  than  he, 
for,  as  fat  Oliver  de  Lancey  said  years  after,  "  There 
is  no  age  to  a  woman's  money,  and  guineas  are  al 
ways  young."  My  aunt,  Gainor  Wynne,  was  still  a 
fine  gentlewoman,  and  did  not  look  her  years.  As 
concerned  this  question  of  age,  she  was  like  a  man, 
and  so  in  fact  she  was  in  some  other  ways.  She 
would  tell  any  one  how  old  she  was.  She  once  in 
formed  Mr.  de  Lancey  that  she  was  so  much  more  of 
a  man  than  any  British  officer  she  knew  that  she  did 
not  see  how  she  could  decently  marry  any  of  them. 

I  think  it  was  about  this  time  that  I  saw  a  little 
scene  which  much  impressed  me,  and  which  often  re 
curs  to  my  memory.  We— that  is,  Mr.  Montresor,  and 
my  Aunt  Gainor  and  I— of  a  Saturday  afternoon  rode 
over  by  the  lower  ferry  and  up  Gray's  Lane,  and  so 
to  Mr.  Hamilton's  country-seat.  "  The  Woodlands," 
as  it  was  called,  stood  on  a  hill  amid  many  beautiful 
trees  and  foreign  shrubs  and  flowers.  Below  it  ran 
the  quiet  Schuylkill,  and  beyond,  above  the  gover 
nor's  woods,  could  be  seen  far  away  Dr.  Kearsley's 
fine  spire  of  Christ  Church.  No  better  did  Master 
Wren  himself  ever  contrive,  or  more  proportioned  to 
the  edifice  beneath  it. 

On  the  porch  were  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Mrs.  Penn, 
with  saucy  gray  eyes,  and  Mrs.  Ferguson.  A  slim 
young  girl,  Rebecca  Franks,  was  teasing  a  cat.  She 
teased  some  one  all  her  days,  and  did  it  merrily,  and 
not  unkindly.  She  was  little  and  very  pretty,  with  a 


56  HUGH  WYNNE 

dark  skin.  Did  she  dream  she  should  marry  a  Brit 
ish  soldier— a  baronet  and  general— and  end  her 
days  in  London  well  on  in  the  century  yet  to  come  ? 

Andrew  Allen,  whose  father,  the  chief  justice, 
took  his  wife,  Margaret,  from  this  house,  sat  on  the 
steps  near  Miss  Franks,  and  beside  her  little  Peggy 
Shippen,  who  already  gave  promise  of  the  beauty 
which  won  for  her  so  pitiful  a  life.  Nothing  in 
this  garden  of  gay  women  and  flowers  foretold  the 
tragedy  of  West  Point.  I  think  of  it  now  with  sad 
wonder. 

In  one  or  another  way  these  people  became  known 
in  our  annals.  Most  of  them  were  of  the  more  exclu 
sive  party  known  as  the  governor's  set,  and  belonged 
to  the  Church  of  England.  With  the  Galloways, 
Cadwaladers,  Willings,  Shippens,  Rawles,  and  others, 
they  formed  a  more  or  less  distinct  society,  affecting 
London  ways,  dining  at  the  extreme  hour  of  four, 
loving  cards,  the  dance,  fox-hunting,  and  to  see  a 
main  of  garne-cocks.  Among  them — not  of  them — 
came  and  went  certain  of  what  were  called  "gen 
teel"  Quakers— Morrises,  Pembertons,  Whartons, 
and  Logans.  They  had  races  too,— that  is,  the  gov 
ernor's  set,— and  one  of  my  delights  was,  on  the  way 
to  the  academy,  to  stop  in  Third  street,  above  Chest 
nut,  and  see  the  race-horses  in  the  Widow  Nichols's 
stables  at  the  sign  of  the  Indian  Queen. 

But  I  have  left  the  laughter  of  the  last  century 
echoing  among  the  columns  of  Andrew  Hamilton's 
home.  The  guests  were  made  welcome,  and  had  a  dish 
of  tea  or  a  glass  of  punch  j  and  those  desiring  no  more 


TJNIVERS 
HUGH  WYNNE  57  ^=^ 

^^ 

bohea  set  a  spoon  across  the  cup,  and  fell  into  groups. 
My  aunt  opened  the  velvet  bag  which  hung  at  her 
waist,  to  pay  Mrs.  Ferguson  a  small  gambling  debt 
of  the  night  before. 

"  Ah,  here  !  "  she  cried  gaily,  "  Mr.  Montresor,  this 
is  for  you.  One  of  Mr.  Grenville's  stamps  j  I  kept 
two.  I  was  lucky  enough  to  get  them  from  Master 
Hughes,  the  stamp  officer— a  great  curiosity.  You 
shall  have  one." 

Mr.  Montresor  bowed.  "  I  will  keep  it,"  he  said, 
"  until  it  comes  into  use  again," 

"  That  will  be  never,'7  said  Andrew  Allen,  turning. 

"Never !  "  repeated  Miss  Wynne.  "Let  us  hope, 
sir,  it  may  be  a  lesson  to  all  future  ministers." 

"  A  man  was  wanted  in  New  York  in  place  of  Mr. 
Gage,"  cried  Mrs.  Ferguson.  "  As  to  those  New  Eng 
land  Puritans,  they  were  in  rebellion  before  they 
came  over,  and  have  been  ever  since." 

"  And  what  of  New  York,  and  this  town,  and  Vir 
ginia  ¥ "  said  my  Aunt  Gainor,  with  her  great  nose 
well  up. 

"  I  would  have  put  an  end  to  their  disloyal  ways, 
one  and  all,"  cried  Mrs.  Ferguson. 

"  It  is  curious,"  said  Mr.  Galloway,  "  that  the  crown 
should  be  so  thwarted.  What  people  have  more  rea 
son  to  be  contented  ¥ " 

"  Contented  !"  said  Miss  Wynne.  "  Already  they 
talk  of  taxes  in  which  we  are  to  have  no  voice.  Con 
tented  !  and  not  a  ship  dare  trade  with  France.  It 
amazes  me  that  there  is  a  man  in  the  plantations  to 
sit  quiet  under  it." 


58  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  I  am  of  your  opinion,  madam/'  said  Mr.  Mac- 
pherson,  "and  I  might  go  still  further." 

"  They  consider  us  as  mere  colonials,  and  we  may 
not  so  much  as  have  a  bishop  of  our  own.  I  would 
I  had  my  way,  sir." 

"And  what  would  you  do,  Mistress  Wynne?" 
asked  Mr.  Chew. 

"  I  would  say,  '  Mr.  Attorney-General,  give  us  the 
same  liberty  all  the  English  have,  to  go  and  come  on 
the  free  seas  ! 7  ' 

"  And  if  not  ? "  said  Montresor,  smiling. 

"And  if  not,"  she  returned,  "then—"  and  she 
touched  the  sword  at  his  side.  I  wondered  to  see 
how  resolute  she  looked. 

The  captain  smiled.  "I  hope  you  will  not  com 
mand  a  regiment,  madam." 

"Would  to  God  I  could!" 

"I  should  run,"  he  cried,  laughing.  And  thus 
pleasantly  ended  a  talk  which  was  becoming  bitter 
to  many  of  this  gay  company. 

Destiny  was  already  sharpening  the  sword  we  were 
soon  to  draw,  and  of  those  who  met  and  laughed  that 
day  there  were  sons  who  were  to  be  set  against 
fathers,  and  brothers  whom  war  was  to  find  in  hos 
tile  ranks.  A  young  fellow  of  my  age,  the  son  of 
Mr.  Macpherson,  sat  below  us  on  the  steps  with  the 
girls.  He  was  to  leave  his  young  life  on  the  bastion 
at  Quebec,  and,  for  myself,  how  little  did  I  dream  of 
what  I  should  get  out  of  the  devil-pot  of  war  which 
was  beginning  to  simmer ! 

Very  soon  I  was  sent  with  Rebecca  Franks  and 


HUGH  WYNNE  59 

Miss  Chew  to  gather  flowers.  Miss  Franks  evidently 
despised  my  youth,  and  between  the  two  little  maids 
I,  being  unused  to  girls,  had  not  a  pleasant  time,  and 
was  glad  to  get  back  to  the  porch,  where  we  stood 
silent  until  bidden  to  be  seated,  upon  which  the  girls 
curtseyed  and  I  bowed,  and  then  sat  down  to  eat 
cakes  and  drink  syllabub. 

At  last  my  aunt  put  on  her  safeguard  petticoat, 
the  horses  came,  and  we  rode  away.  For  a  while  she 
was  silent,  answering  the  captain  in  monosyllables ; 
but  just  beyond  the  ferry  his  horse  cast  a  shoe,  and 
went  so  lame  that  the  officer  must  needs  return  to 
Woodlands  leading  him,  there  to  ask  a  new  mount. 

For  yet  a  while  my  aunt  rode  on  without  a  word, 
but  at  last  she  began  to  rally  me  as  to  Miss  Chew. 
I  had  to  confess  I  cared  not  for  her  or  the  other,  or, 
indeed,  for  maids  at  all. 

"  It  will  come,"  said  she.  "  Oh,  it  will  come  soon 
enough.  Peggy  Chew  has  the  better  manners.  And, 
by  the  way,  sir,  when  you  bow,  keep  your  back 
straight.  Mr.  Montresor  has  a  pretty  way  of  it. 
Observe  him,  Hugh.  But  he  is  a  fool,  and  so  are 
the  rest  ;  and  as  for  Betty  Ferguson,  I  should  like  to 
lay  a  whip  over  her  back  like  that,"  and  she  hit  my 
horse  sharply,  poor  thing,  so  that  I  lost  a  stirrup 
and  came  near  to  falling. 

When  the  beast  got  quiet  I  asked  why  these  nice 
people,  who  had  such  pleasant  ways,  were  all  fools. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  she  said.  "  There  are  many  and 
constant  causes  of  trouble  between  us  and  the  king. 
When  one  ends,  like  this  Stamp  Act,  another  is 


60  HUGH  WYNNE 

hatched.  It  was  the  best  of  us  who  left  England, 
and  we  are  trained  to  rely  on  ourselves,  and  have 
no  need  of  England.  You  will  live  to  see  dark  days, 
Hugh— just  what,  God  alone  can  tell;  but  you  will 
live  to  see  them,  and  your  life  will  have  to  answer 
some  questions.  This  may  seem  strange  to  you,  my 
lad,  but  it  will  come." 

What  would  come  I  knew  not.  She  said  no  more, 
but  rode  homeward  at  speed,  as  she  liked  best  to  do. 

Thus  time  went  by,  until  I  was  full  sixteen,  having 
been  at  the  college  a  year  later  than  was  usual.  I 
had  few  battles  to  fight,  and  contrived  to  keep  these 
to  myself,  or  to  get  patched  up  at  my  Aunt  Wynne's, 
who  delighted  to  hear  of  these  conflicts,  and  always 
gave  me  a  shilling  to  heal  my  wounds.  My  dear, 
fair-haired  Jack,  Aunt  Gainor  thought  a  girl-boy, 
and  fit  only  to  sell  goods,  or,  at  best,  to  become  a 
preacher.  His  father  she  used  and  disliked. 

Meanwhile  we  had  been  through  Horace  and 
Cicero,— and  Ovid  for  our  moral  improvement,  I 
suppose,— with  Virgil  and  Sallust,  and  at  last  Caesar, 
whom  alone  of  them  all  I  liked.  Indeed,  Jack  and 
I  built  over  a  brook  in  my  Aunt  Gainor's  garden  at 
Chestnut  Hill  a  fair  model  of  Cesar's  great  bridge 
over  the  Rhine.  This  admired  product  of  our  in 
genuity  was  much  praised  by  Captain  Montresor, 
who  was  well  aware  of  my  aunt's  weakness  for  a 
certain  young  person. 

My  father's  decisions  came  always  without  warn 
ing.  In  the  fall  of  1769  I  was  just  gone  back  to  the 
academy,  and  put  to  work'  at  mathematics  and  some 


HUGH  WYNNE  61 

Greek  under  James  Wilson,  at  that  period  one  of  the 
tutors,  and  some  time  later  an  associate  judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court.  This  great  statesman  and  law 
yer  of  after-days  was  a  most  delightful  teacher.  He 
took  a  fancy  to  my  Jack,  and,  as  we  were  insepa 
rable,  put  up  with  my  flippancy  and  deficient  scholar 
ship.  Jack's  diary  says  otherwise,  and  that  he  saw  in 
me  that  which,  well  used,  might  make  of  me  a  man 
of  distinction.  At  all  events,  he  liked  well  to  walk 
with  us  on  a  Saturday,  or  to  go  in  my  boat,  which 
was  for  us  a  great  honour.  My  father  approved  of 
James  Wilson,  and  liked  him  on  the  holiday  to  share 
our  two-o'clock  dinner.  Then,  and  then  only,  did  I 
understand  the  rigour  and  obstinacy  of  my  father's 
opinions,  for  they  ofttimes  fell  into  debate  as  to  the 
right  of  the  crown  to  tax  us  without  representation. 
Mr.  Wilson  said  many  towns  in  England  had  no 
voice  in  Parliament,  and  that,  if  once  the  crown 
yielded  the  principle  we  stood  on,  it  would  change 
the  whole  political  condition  in  the  mother-land  j 
and  this  the  king  would  never  agree  to  see.  Mr. 
Wilson  thought  we  had  been  foolish  to  say,  as 
many  did,  that,  while  we  would  have  no  internal 
taxes,  we  would  submit  to  a  tax  on  imports.  This  he 
considered  even  worse.  My  father  was  for  obedience 
and  non-resistance,  and  could  not  see  that  we  were 
fighting  a  battle  for  the  liberty  of  all  Englishmen. 
He  simply  repeated  his  opinions,  and  was  but  a  child 
in  the  hands  of  this  clear-headed  thinker.  My  father 
might  well  have  feared  for  the  effect  of  Mr.  Wilson's 
views  on  a  lad  of  my  age,  in  whose  mind  he  opened 


62  HUGH  WYNNE 

vistas  of  thought  far  in  advance  of  those  which,  with 
out  him,  I  should  ever  have  seen. 

John  Wynne  was,  however,  too  habitually  accus 
tomed  to  implicit  obedience  to  dream  of  danger,  and 
thus  were  early  sown  in  my  mind  the  seeds  of  future 
action,  with  some  doubt  as  to  my  father's  ability  to 
cope  with  a  man  like  our  tutor,  who  considerately 
weighed  my  father's  sentiments  (they  were  hardly 
opinions),  and  so  easily  and  courteously  disposed  of 
them  that  these  logical  defeats  were  clear  even  to  us 
boys. 

Our  school  relations  with  this  gentleman  were 
abruptly  broken.  One  day,  in  late  October  of  1769, 
we  went  on  a  long  walk  through  the  proprietary's 
woods,  gathering  for  my  mother  boughs  of  the  many- 
tinted  leaves  of  autumn.  These  branches  she  liked 
to  set  in  jars  of  water  in  the  room  where  we  sat,  so 
that  it  might  be  gay  with  the  lovely  colours  she  so 
much  enjoyed.  As  we  entered  the  forest  about 
Eighth  street  Mr.  Wilson  joined  us,  and  went  along, 
chatting  agreeably  with  my  mother.  Presently  he 
said  to  me :  "I  have  just  left  your  father  with  Mr. 
Pemberton,  talking  about  some  depredations  in  Mr. 
Penn's  woods.  He  tells  me  you  boys  are  to  leave 
school,  but  for  what  I  do  not  know.  I  am  sorry." 

Jack  and  I  had  of  late  expected  this,  and  I,  for 
one,  was  not  grieved,  but  my  friend  was  less  well 
pleased. 

We  strolled  across  to  the  Schuylkill,  and  there, 
sitting  down,  amused  ourselves  with  making  a  little 
crown  of  twisted  twigs  and  leaves  of  the  red  and  yel- 


HUGH  WYNNE  63 

low  maples.  This  we  set  merrily  on  my  mother's  gray 
beaver,  while  Mr.  Wilson  declared  it  most  becoming. 
Just  then  Friend  Pemberton  and  my  father  came 
upon  us,  and,  as  usual  when  the  latter  appeared,  our 
laughter  ceased. 

"  I  shall  want  thee  this  afternoon,  Hugh,"  he  said. 
"And  what  foolishness  is  this  on  thy  head,  wife! 
Art  thou  going  home  in  this  guise  ? " 

"  It  seems  an  innocent  prettiness,"  said  Pemberton, 
while  my  mother,  in  no  wise  dismayed,  looked  up 
with  her  big  blue  eyes. 

"  Thou  wilt  always  be  a  child,"  said  my  father. 

"  Je  I'espere,"  said  the  mother ;  "  must  I  be  put  in 
a  corner?  The  ~bon  Dieu  hath  just  changed  the 
forest  fashions.  I  wonder  is  He  a  Quaker,  Friend 
Pemberton  ?  " 

"  Thou  hast  ever  a  neat  answer,"  said  the  gentle 
old  man.  "  Come,  John,  we  are  not  yet  done." 

My  father  said  no  more,  and  we  boys  were  still  as 
mice.  We  went  homeward  with  our  mirth  quite  at 
an  end,  Jack  and  Wilson  leaving  us  at  Fourth  street. 

In  the  afternoon  about  six— for  an  hour  had  been 
named— I  saw  my  aunt's  chaise  at  the  door.  I  knew 
at  once  that  something  unusual  was  in  store,  for 
Mistress  Wynne  rarely  came  hither  except  to  see  my 
mother,  and  then  always  in  the  forenoon.  Moreover, 
I  noticed  my  father  at  the  window,  and  never  had  I 
known  him  to  return  so  early.  When  I  went  in  he 
said  at  once : 

"  I  have  been  telling  thy  aunt  of  my  intention  in 
regard  to  thee." 


64  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  And  I  utterly  disapprove  of  it,"  said  my  aunt. 

11  Wait,"  lie  said.  "  I  desire  that  thou  shalt  enter  as 
one  of  my  clerks  ;  but  first  it  is  my  will  that,  as  the 
great  and  good  proprietary  decreed,  thou  shouldst 
acquire  some  mechanic  trade  ;  I  care  not  what." 

I  was  silent ;  I  did  not  like  it.  Even  far  later,  cer 
tain  of  the  stricter  Friends  adhered  to  a  rule  which 
was  once  useful,  but  was  now  no  longer  held  to  be  of 
imperative  force. 

"I  would  suggest  shoemaking,"  said  my  Aunt 
Gainor,  scornfully,  "or  tailoring." 

"  I  beg  of  thee,  Gainor,"  said  my  mother,  "  not  to 
discontent  the  lad." 

"  As  to  this  matter,"  returned  my  father,  "  I  will 
not  be  thwarted.  I  asked  thee  to  come  hither,  not  to 
ridicule  a  sensible  decision,  but  to  consult  upon  it." 

"You  have  had  all  my  wisdom,"  said  the  lady. 
"  I  had  thought  to  ask  my  friend,  Charles  Townsend, 
for  a  pair  of  colours  ;  but  now  that  troops  are  sent  to 
Boston  to  override  all  reason,  I  doubt  it.  Do  as  you 
will  with  the  boy.  I  wash  my  hands  of  him." 

This  was  by  no  means  my  father's  intention.  I 
saw  his  face  set  in  an  expression  I  well  knew ;  but 
my  mother  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm,  and,  with  what 
must  have  been  a  great  effort,  he  controlled  his 
anger,  and  said  coldly :  "  I  have  talked  this  over  with 
thy  friend,  Joseph  Warder,  and  he  desired  that  his 
son  should  share  in  my  decision  as  to  Hugh.  Talk 
to  him,  Gainor." 

"  I  do  not  take  counsel  with  my  agent,  John.  He 
does  as  I  bid  him.  I  could  shift  his  opinions  at  a 


HUGH  WYNNE  65 

word.  He  is  a  Tory  to-day,  and  a  Whig  to-morrow, 
and  anything  to  anybody.  Why  do  you  talk  such 
nonsense  to  me  ?  Let  me  tell  you  that  he  has  already 
been  to  ask  me  what  I  think  of  it.  He  feels  some 
doubt,  poor  man.  Indeed,  he  is  disposed  to  consider. 
Bother  !  what  does  it  matter  what  he  considers  ? " 

"  If  he  has  changed  his  mind  I  have  not.  Joseph 
hath  ever  a  coat  of  many  colours." 

"  I  shall  tell  him/7  she  cried,  laughing.  The  Quaker 
rule  of  repression  and  non-resistance  by  no  means 
forbade  the  use  of  the  brutal  bludgeon  of  sarcasm, 
as  many  a  debate  in  Meeting  could  testify.  She  rose 
as  she  spoke,  and  my  mother  said  gently : 

"  Thou  wilt  not  tell  him,  Gainor." 

Meanwhile  I  stood  amazed  at  a  talk  which  so 
deeply  concerned  rue. 

"  Shall  it  be  a  smithy  ? "  said  my  father. 

"  Oh,  what  you  like.  The  Wynnes  are  well  down 
in  the  world— trade,  horseshoeing.  Good  evening." 

"  Gainor !  Gainor  !  "  cried  my  mother  j  but  she  was 
gone  in  wrath,  and  out  of  the  house. 

"  Thou  wilt  leave  the  academy.  I  have  already 
arranged  with  Lowry,  in  South  street,  to  take  thee. 
Three  months  should  answer." 

To  this  I  said,  "  Yes,  yes,"  and  went  away  but  little 
pleased,  my  mother  saying,  "  It  is  only  for  a  time, 
my  son." 


I  AYS  my  friend  Jack  in  his  journal : 

"The  boys  were  in  these  times  keen 
politicians  whenever  any  unusual  event 
occurred,  and  the  great  pot  was  like  soon 
to  boil  furiously,  and  scald  the  cooks. 
Charles  Townsend's  ministry  was  long  over.  The 
Stamp  Act  had  come  and  gone.  The  Non-importa 
tion  Agreement  had  been  signed  even  by  men  like 
Andrew  Allen  and  Mr.  Penn.  Lord  North,  a  gentle 
and  obstinate  person,  was  minister.  The  Lord  Hills- 
borough,  a  man  after  the  king's  heart,  had  the  colo 
nial  office.  The  troops  had  landed  in  Boston,  and 
the  letters  of  Dickinson  and  Vindex  had  fanned 
the  embers  of  discontent  into  flame. 

"  Through  it  all  we  boys  contrived  to  know  every 
thing  that  was  happening.  I  had  a  sense  of  fear  about 
it,  but  to  Hugh  I  think  it  was  delightful.  A  fire,  a  mob, 
confusion,  and  disorder  appeal  to  most  boys'  minds 
as  desirable.  My  father  was  terrified  at  the  disturb 
ance  of  commerce,  and  the  angry  words  which  began 
to  be  heard.  Mr.  John  Wynne  very  coolly  ad 
justed  his  affairs,  as  I  have  heard,  and  settled  down 

with  the  Friends,  such  as  Wain  and  Shoemaker  and 

66 


HUGH  WYNNE  67 

Pemberton  and  the  rest,  to  accept  whatever  the  king 
might  decree." 

Jack  and  I  talked  it  all  over  in  wild  boy  fashion, 
and  went  every  day  at  six  in  the  morning  to  Lowry's 
on  South  street.  At  first  we  both  hated  the  work, 
but  this  did  not  last;  and,  once  we  were  used  to 
it,  the  business  had  for  fellows  like  ourselves  a 
certain  charm.  The  horses  we  learned  to  know  and 
understand.  Their  owners  were  of  a  class  with  which 
in  those  days  it  was  not  thought  seemly  for  persons 
of  our  degree  to  be  familiar;  here  it  was  unavoid 
able,  and  I  soon  learned  how  deep  in  the  hearts  of 
the  people  was  the  determination  to  resist  the  author 
ity  of  the  crown. 

The  lads  wTe  knew  of  the  gay  set  used  to  come  and 
laugh  at  us,  as  we  plied  the  hammer  or  blew  the 
bellows ;  and  one  day  Miss  Franks  and  Miss  Peggy 
Chew,  and  I  think  Miss  Shippen,  stood  awhile  with 
out  the  forge,  making  very  merry.  Jack  got  red  in 
the  face,  but  I  was  angry,  worked  on  doggedly,  and 
said  nothing.  At  last  I  thrashed  soundly  one  Master 
Galloway,  who  called  me  a  horse-cobbler,  and  after 
that  no  more  trouble. 

I  became  strong  and  muscular  as  the  work  went  on, 
and  got  to  like  our  master,  who  was  all  for  liberty, 
and  sang  as  he  struck,  and  taught  me  much  that  was 
useful  as  to  the  management  of  horses,  so  that  I 
was  not  long  unhappy.  My  father,  pleased  at  my 
diligence,  once  said  to  me  that  I  seemed  to  be  at 
tentive  to  the  business  in  hand ;  and,  as  far  as  I 
remember,  this  was  the  only  time  in  my  life  that 


68  HUGH  WYNNE 

he  ever  gave  me  a  word  of  even  tlie  mildest  com 
mendation. 

It  was  what  Jack  most  needed.  His  slight, 
graceful  figure  filled  out  and  became  very  straight, 
losing  a  stoop  it  had,  so  that  he  grew  to  be  a  well- 
built,  active  young  fellow,  rosy,  and  quite  too  pretty, 
with  his  blond  locks.  After  our  third  month  began, 
Lowry  married  a  widow,  and  moved  away  to  her  farm 
up  the  country  and  beyond  the  Blue  Bell  tavern, 
where  he  carried  on  his  business,  and  where  he  was  to 
appear  again  to  me  at  a  time  when  I  sorely  needed 
him.  It  was  to  be  another  instance  of  how  a  greater 
Master  overrules  our  lives  for  good. 

Just  after  we  had  heard  the  news  of  the  widow, 
my  father  came  into  the  forge  one  day  with  Joseph 
Warder.  He  stood  and  watched  me  shoe  a  horse,  and 
asked  Lowry  if  I  had  learned  the  business.  When 
he  replied  that  we  both  might  become  more  expert, 
but  that  we  could  make  nails,  and  shoe  fairly  well, 
iny  father  said : 

"  Take  off  these  aprons,  and  go  home.  There  will 
be  other  work  for  both  of  you." 

We  were  glad  enough  to  obey,  and,  dropping  our 
leathern  aprons,  thus  ended  our  apprenticeship. 
Next  week  Tom  Lowry,  our  master,  appeared  with 
a  fine  beaver  for  me,  saying,  as  I  knew,  that  it  was 
the  custom  to  give  an  apprentice  a  beaver  when  his 
time  was  up,  and  that  he  had  never  been  better 
served  by  any. 

My  Aunt  Gainor  kept  away  all  this  time,  and 
made  it  clear  that  she  did  not  wish  my  black  hands 


HUGH  WYNNE  69 

at  her  table.  My  father,  no  doubt,  felt  sure  that,  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  she  would  soon  or  late  relent. 
This,  in  fact,  came  about  in  midwinter,  upon  her 
asking  my  mother  to  send  me  to  see  her.  My  father 
observed  that  he  had  no  will  to  make  quarrels,  or 
to  keep  them  alive.  My  mother  smiled  demurely, 
knowing  him  as  none  other  did,  and  bade  me  go 
with  her. 

In  her  own  room  she  had  laid  out  on  the  bed  a 
brown  coat  of  velveteen,  with  breeches  to  match,  and 
stockings  with  brown  clocks,  and  also  a  brown  beaver, 
the  back  looped  up,  all  of  which  she  had,  with  sweet 
craftiness,  provided,  that  I  might  appear  well  before 
my  Aunt  Gainor. 

"  Thou  wilt  fight  no  one  on  the  way,  Hugh.  And 
now,  what  shall  be  done  with  his  hands,  so  rough  and 
so  hard  ?  Scrub  them  well.  Tell  Gainor  I  have  two 
new  lilies  for  her,  just  come  from  Jamaica.  Bulbs 
they  are ;  I  will  care  for  them  in  the  cellar.  I  was 
near  to  forget  the  marmalade  of  bitter  orange.  She 
must  send ;  I  cannot  trust  Tom.  Thy  father  had  him 
whipped  at  the  jail  yesterday,  and  he  is  sulky.  Put 
on  thy  clothes,  and  I  will  come  again  to  see  how 
they  fit  thee." 

In  a  little  while  she  was  back  again,  declaring  I 
looked  a  lord,  and  that  if  she  were  a  girl  she  should 
fall  in  love  with  me,  and  then— "But  I  shall  never 
let  any  woman  but  me  kiss  thee.  I  shall  be  jealous. 
And  now,  sir,  a  bow.  That  was  better.  Now,  as  I 
curtsey,  it  is  bad  manners  to  have  it  over  before  I  am 
fully  risen.  Then  it  is  permitted  that  les  beaux  yeux 


70  HUGH  WYNNE 

se  rencontrent.  Comme  $a.  Ca  va  Uen.  That  is  bet 
ter  done." 

"  What  vanities  are  these  ? "  said  my  father  at  the 
door  she  had  left  open. 

She  was  nowise  alarmed.  "Come  in,  John,"  she 
cried.  "He  does  not  yet  bow  as  well  as  thou.  It 
would  crack  some  Quaker  backs,  I  think.  I  can  hear 
Friend  Wain's  joints  creak  when  he  gets  up." 

"  Nonsense,  wife  !     Thou  art  a  child  to  this  day." 

"  Then  kiss  me,  mon  pere."  And  she  ran  to  him 
and  stood  on  tiptoe,  so  engaging  and  so  pretty  that  he 
could  not  help  but  lift  up  her  slight  figure,  and,  kiss 
ing  her,  set  her  down.  It  was  a  moment  of  rare  ten 
derness.  Would  I  had  known  or  seen  more  like  it ! 

"  Thou  wilt  ruin  him,  wife." 

As  I  ran  down  the  garden  she  called  after  me, 
"Do  not  thou  forget  to  kiss  her  hand.  To-morrow 
will  come  the  warehouse ;  but  take  the  sweets  of  life 
as  they  offer.  Adieu."  She  stood  to  watch  me,  all 
her  dear  heart  in  her  eyes,  something  pure,  and,  as 
it  were,  virginal  in  her  look.  God  rest  her  soul ! 

It  was  late  when  I  got  to  my  aunt's,  somewhere 
about  eight,  and  the  hum  of  voices  warned  me  of  her 
having  company.  As  I  entered  she  rose,  expecting 
an  older  guest,  and,  as  I  had  been  bid,  I  bowed  low 
and  touched  her  hand  with  my  lips,  as  I  said : 

"  Dear  Aunt  Gainor,  it  has  been  so  long !  "  I  could 
have  said  nothing  better.  She  laughed. 

"  Here  is  my  nephew,  Mr.  Etherington  "—this  to  an 
English  major ;  "  and,  Captain  Wallace  of  the  king's 
navy,  my  nephew." 


HUGH  WYNNE  71 

The  captain  was  a  rough,  boisterous  sailor,  and  the 
other  a  man  with  too  much  manner,  and,  as  I  heard 
later,  risen  from  the  ranks. 

He  saluted  me  with  a  lively  thump  on  the  shoul 
der,  which  I  did  not  relish.  "  Zounds  !  sir,  but  you 
are  a  stout  young  Quaker !  " 

"  We  are  most  of  us  Quakers  here,  captain,"  said  a 
quiet  gentleman,  who  saw,  I  fancy,  by  my  face  that 
this  rude  greeting  was  unpleasant  to  me. 

"  How  are  you,  Hugh?"  This  was  the  Master 
of  the  Rolls,  Mr.  John  Morris.  Then  my  aunt  said, 
"  Go  and  speak  to  the  ladies— you  know  them ; "  and 
as  I  turned  aside,  "I  beg  pardon,  Sir  William;  this 
is  my  nephew,  Hugh  Wynne."  This  was  addressed 
to  a  high-coloured  personage  in  yellow  velvet  with 
gold  buttons,  and  a  white  flowered  waistcoat,  and 
with  his  queue  in  a  fine  hair-net. 

"  This  is  Sir  William  Draper,  Hugh ;  he  who  took 
Manilla,  as  you  must  know."  I  did  not,  nor  did  I 
know  until  later  that  he  was  one  of  the  victims  of 
the  sharp  pen  of  Junius,  with  whom,  for  the  sake  of 
the  Marquis  of  Granby,  he  had  rashly  ventured  to 
tilt.  The  famous  soldier  smiled  as  I  saluted  him 
with  my  best  bow. 

"  Fine  food  for  powder,  Mistress  Wynne,  and  al 
ready  sixteen  !  I  was  in  service  three  years  earlier. 
Should  he  wish  for  an  ensign's  commission,  I  am  at 
your  service." 

"  Ah,  Sir  William,  that  might  have  been,  a  year  or 
so  ago,  but  now  he  may  have  to  fight  General  Gage." 

"  The  gods  forbid !     Our  poor  general !  " 


72  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  Mistress  Wynne  is  a  rank  Whig/'  put  in  Mrs. 
Ferguson.  "  She  reads  Dickinson's  l  Farmer's  Let 
ters/  and  all  the  wicked  treason  of  that  man  Adams." 

"A  low  demagogue!"  cried  Mrs.  Galloway.  "I 
hear  there  have  been  disturbances  in  Boston,  and 
that  because  one  James  Otis  has  been  beaten  by  our 
officers,  and  because  our  bands  play  '  Yankee  Doodle ' 
on  Sundays  in  front  of  the  churches— I  beg  pardon, 
the  meetings— Mr.  Robinson,  the  king's  collector,  has 
had  to  pay  and  apologise.  Most  shameful  it  is !  " 

"  I  should  take  short  measures,"  said  the  sailor. 

"And  I,"  cried  Etherington.  "I  have  just  come 
from  Virginia,  but  not  a  recruit  could  I  get.  It  is 
like  a  nest  of  ants  in  a  turmoil,  and  the  worst  of 
all  are  the  officers  who  served  in  the  French  war. 
There  is,  too,  a  noisy  talker,  Patrick  Henry,  and  a 
Mr.  Washington." 

"  I  think  it  was  he  who  saved  the  wreck  of  the  king's 
army  under  Mr.  Braddock,"  said  my  aunt.  "I  can 
remember  how  they  all  looked.  Not  a  wig  among 
them.  The  lodges  must  have  been  full  of  them,  but 
their  legs  saved  their  scalps." 

"Is  it  for  this  they  call  them  wigwams?"  cries 
naughty  Miss  Chew. 

"  Fie !  fie ! "  says  her  mamma,  while  my  aunt 
laughed  merrily. 

"A  mere  Potomac  planter,"  said  Etherington,  "  'pon 
my  soul— and  with  such  airs,  as  if  they  were  gentle 
men  of  the  line." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  my  aunt,  "  they  had  not  had  your 
opportunities  of  knowing  all  grades  of  the  service." 


HUGH  WYNNE  73 

The  major  flushed.  "I  have  served  the  king  as 
well  as  I  know  how,  and  I  trust,  madam,  I  shall  have 
the  pleasure  to  aid  in  the  punishment  of  some  of 
these  insolent  rebels." 

"  May  you  be  there  to  see,  Hugh,"  said  my  aunt, 
laughing. 

Willing  to  make  a  diversion,  Mrs.  Chew  said,  "  Let 
us  defeat  these  Tories  at  the  card-table,  Grainor." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  my  aunt,  glad  of  this 
turn  in  the  talk. 

11  Come  and  give  me  luck,  Hugh,"  said  Mrs.  Fergu 
son.  "  What  a  big  fellow  you  are  !  Your  aunt  must 
find  you  ruffles  soon,  and  a  steenkirk." 

With  this  I  sat  down  beside  her,  and  wondered  to 
see  how  eager  and  interested  they  all  became,  and 
how  the  guineas  and  gold  half -joes  passed  from  one 
to  another,  while  the  gay  Mrs.  Ferguson,  who  was  at 
the  table  with  Mrs.  Penn,  Captain  Wallace,  and  my 
aunt,  gave  me  my  first  lesson  in  this  form  of  in 
dustry. 

A  little  later  there  was  tea,  chocolate,  and  rusks, 
with  punch  for  the  men ;  and  Dr.  Shippen  came  in, 
and  the  great  Dr.  Rush,  with  his  delicate,  clean-cut 
face  under  a  full  wig.  Dr.  Shippen  was  full  of  talk 
about  some  fine  game-cocks,  and  others  were  busy 
with  the  spring  races  in  Centre  Square. 

You  may  be  sure  I  kept  my  ears  open  to  hear  what 
all  these  great  men  said.  I  chanced  to  hear  Dr.  Rush 
deep  in  talk  behind  the  punch-table  with  a  handsome 
young  man,  Dr.  Morgan,  newly  come  from  London. 

Dr.  Rush  said,  "  I  have  news  to-day,  in  a  letter  from 


74  HUGH  WYNNE 

Mr.  Adams,  of  things  being  unendurable.  He  is  bold 
enough  to  talk  of  separation  from  England ;  but  that 
is  going  far,  too  far." 

"I  think  so,  indeed/7  said  Morgan.  "I  saw  Dr. 
Franklin  in  London.  He  advises  conciliation,  and 
not  to  act  with  rash  haste.  These  gentlemen  yon 
der  make  it  difficult." 

"  Yes ;  there  is  no  insolence  like  that  of  the  soldier." 
And  this  was  all  I  heard  or  remember,  for  my  aunt 
bade  me  run  home  and  thank  my  mother,  telling 
me  to  come  again  and  soon. 

The  plot  was  indeed  thickening,  and  even  a  lad 
as  young  as  I  could  scent  peril  in  the  air.  At  home 
I  heard  nothing  of  it.  No  doubt  my  father  read  at 
his  warehouse  the  "  Pennsylvania  Journal,"  or  more 
likely  Galloway's  gazette,  the  "  Chronicle,"  which  was 
rank  Tory,  and  was  suppressed  in  1773.  But  outside 
of  the  house  I  learned  the  news  readily.  Mr.  War 
der  took  papers  on  both  sides,  and  also  the  Boston 
"  Packet,"  so  that  Jack  and  I  were  well  informed,  and 
used  to  take  the  gazettes  when  his  father  had  read 
them,  and  devour  them  safely  in  our  boat,  when  by 
rare  chance  I  had  a  holiday. 

And  so  passed  the  years  1770,  1771,  and  1772, 
when  Lord  North  precipitated  the  crisis  by  attempt 
ing  to  control  the  judges  in  Massachusetts,  who  were 
in  future  to  be  paid  by  the  crown,  and  would  thus 
pass  under  its  control.  Adams  now  suggested  com 
mittees  of  correspondence,  and  thus  the  first  step 
toward  united  action  was  taken. 

These  years,  up  to  the  autumn  of  1772,  were  not 


HUGH  WYNNE  75 

without  influence  on  my  own  life  for  both  good  and 
evil.  I  was,  of  course,  kept  sedulously  at  work  at  our 
business,  and,  though  liking  it  even  less  than  farriery, 
learned  it  well  enough.  It  was  not  without  its  plea 
sures.  Certainly  it  was  an  agreeable  thing  to  know 
the  old  merchant  captains,  and  to  talk  to  their  men 
or  themselves.  The  sea  had  not  lost  its  romance. 
Men  could  remember  Kidd  and  Blackbeard.  In.  the 
low-lying  dens  below  Dock  Creek  and  on  King  street, 
were  many,  it  is  to  be  feared,  who  had  seen  the  black 
flag  flying,  and  who  knew  too  well  the  keys  and 
shoals  of  the  West  Indies.  The  captain  who  put  to 
sea  with  such  sailors  had  need  to  be  resolute  and 
ready.  Ships  went  armed,  and  I  was  amazed  to  see, 
in  the  holds  of  our  own  ships,  carronades,  which  out 
on  the  ocean  were  hoisted  up  and  set  in  place  on  deck ; 
also  cutlasses  and  muskets  in  the  cabin,  and  good 
store  of  pikes.  I  ventured  once  to  ask  my  father  if 
this  were  consistent  with  non-resistance.  He  replied 
that  pirates  were  like  to  wild  beasts,  and  that  I  had 
better  attend  to  my  business ;  after  which  I  said  no 
more,  having  food  for  thought. 

These  captains  got  thus  a  noble  training,  were  splen 
did  seamen,  and  not  unused  to  arms  and  danger,  as 
proved  fortunate  in  days  to  come.  Once  I  would 
have  gone  to  the  Madeiras  with  Captain  Biddle,  but 
unluckily  my  mother  prevailed  with  my  father  to 
forbid  it.  It  had  been  better  for  me  had  it  been  de 
cided  otherwise,  because  I  was  fast  getting  an  edu 
cation  which  did  me  no  good. 

"  Indeed,"  says  Jack  later  on  in  his  diary,  "  I  was 


76  HUGH  WYNNE 

much  troubled  in  those  seventies  "  (he  means  up  to 
'74,  when  we  were  full  twenty-one)  "  about  my  friend 
Hugh.  The  town  was  full  of  officers  of  all  grades, 
who  came  and  went,  and  brought  with  them  much 
licence  and  contempt  for  colonists  in  general,  and  a 
silly  way  of  parading  their  own  sentiments  on  all 
occasions.  Gambling,  hard  drinking,  and  all  manner 
of  worse  things  became  common  and  more  openly 
indulged  in.  Neither  here  nor  in  Boston  could  young 
women  walk  about  unattended,  a  new  and  strange 
thing  in  our  quiet  town. 

"  Mistress  Gainor's  house  was  full  of  these  gentle 
men,  whom  she  entertained  with  a  freedom  only 
equalled  by  that  with  which  she  spoke  her  good 
Whig  mind.  The  air  was  full  of  excitement.  Busi 
ness  fell  off,  and  Hugh  and  I  had  ample  leisure  to 
do  much  as  we  liked. 

"  I  musi  honestly  declare  that  I  deserve  no  praise 
for  having  escaped  the  temptations  which  beset 
Hugh.  I  hated  all  excess,  and  suffered  in  body  if  I 
drank  or  ate  more  than  was  wise.  As  regards  worse 
things  than  wine  and  cards,  I  think  Miss  Wynne  was 
right  when  she  described  me  as  a  girl-boy ;  for  the 
least  rudeness  or  laxity  of  talk  in  women  I  disliked, 
and  as  to  the  mere  modesties  of  the  person,  I  have 
always  been  like  some  well-nurtured  maid. 

"  Thus  it  was  that  when  Hugh,  encouraged  by  his 
aunt,  fell  into  the  company  of  these  loose,  swagger 
ing  captains  and  cornets,  I  had  either  to  give  up 
him,  who  was  unable  to  resist  them,  or  to  share 
in  their  vicious  ways  myself.  It  was  my  personal 


HUGH  WYNNE  77 

disgust  at  drunkenness  or  loose  society  which  saved 
me,  not  any  moral  or  religious  safeguards,  although 
I  trust  I  was  not  altogether  without  these  helps.  I 
have'  seen  now  and  then  that  to  be  refined  in  tastes 
and  feelings  is  a  great  aid  to  a  virtuous  life.  Also  I 
have  known  some  who  would  have  been  drunkards 
but  for  their  heads  and  stomachs,  which  so  be 
haved  as  to  be  good  substitutes  for  conscience.  It 
is  sometimes  the  body  which  saves  the  soul.  Both 
of  these  helps  I  had,  but  my  dear  Hugh  had  neither. 
He  was  a  great,  strong,  masculine  fellow,  and  if  I 
may  seem  to  have  said  that  he  wanted  refined  feel 
ings,  that  is  not  so,  and  to  him,  who  will  never  read 
these  lines,  and  to  myself,  I  must  apologise." 

I  did  come  to  see  these  pages,  as  you  know.  I 
think  he  meant,  that  with  the  wine  of  youth  and  at 
times  of  other  vintages,  in  my  veins,  the  strong  pater 
nal  blood,  which  in  my  father  only  a  true,  if  hard, 
religion  kept  in  order,  was  too  much  for  me.  If  I 
state  this  awkwardly  it  is  because  all  excuses  are 
awkward.  Looking  back,  I  wonder  that  I  was  not 
worse,  and  that  I  did  not  go  to  the  uttermost  devil. 
I  was  vigorous,  and  had  the  stomach  of  a  temperate 
ox,  arfe?  a  head  which  made  no  complaints.  The 
morning  after  some  mad  revel  I  could  rise  at  five,  and 
go  out  in  my  boat  and  overboard,  and  then  home  in 
a  glow,  with  a  fine  appetite  for  breakfast ;  and  I  was 
so  big  and  tall  that  I  was  thought  to  be  many  years 
older  than  I  was. 

I  should  have  been  less  able  unwatched  to  go 
down  this  easy  descent,  had  it  not  been  for  a  train 


78  HUGH  WYNNE 

of  circumstances  which  not  only  left  me  freer  than  I 
ought  to  have  been,  but,  in  the  matter  of  money,  made 
it  only  too  possible  for  me  to  hold  my  own  amid 
evil  or  lavish  company.  My  aunt  had  lived  in  Lon 
don,  and  in  a  society  which  had  all  the  charm  of 
breeding,  and  all  the  vices  of  a  period  more  coarse 
than  ours.  She  detested  my  father's  notions,  and  if 
she  meant  to  win  me  to  her  own  she  took  an  ill  way 
to  do  it.  I  was  presented  to  the  English  officers,  and 
freely  supplied  with  money,  to  which  I  had  been 
quite  unused,  so  long  as  my  father  was  the  only 
source  of  supply.  We  were  out  late  when  I  was 
presumed  to  be  at  my  Aunt  Gainer's  j  and  to  drink 
and  bet,  or  to  see  a  race  or  cock-fight,  or  to  pull 
off  knockers,  or  to  bother  the  ancient  watchmen, 
were  now  some  of  my  most  reputable  amusements. 
I  began  to  be  talked  about  as  a  bit  of  a  rake,  and 
my  Aunt  Gainor  was  not  too  greatly  displeased ;  she 
would  hear  of  our  exploits  and  say  "  Fie  !  fie  !  "  and 
then  give  me  more  guineas.  Worse  than  all,  my 
father  was  deep  in  his  business,  lessening  his  ven 
tures,  and  thus  leaving  me  more  time  to  sow  the 
seed  of  idleness.  Everything,  as  I  now  see  it,  com 
bined  to  make  easy  for  me  the  downward  path.  I 
went  along  it  without  the  company  of  Jack  Warder, 
and  so  we  drew  apart  ;  he  would  none  of  it. 

When  my  father  began  to  withdraw  his  capital  my 
mother  was  highly  pleased,  and  more  than  once  in 
my  presence  said  to  him :  "  Why,  John,  dost  thou 
strive  for  more  and  more  money?  Hast  thou  not 
enough  ?  Let  us  give  up  all  this  care  and  go  to  our 


HUGH  WYNNE  79 

great  farm  at  Merion,  and  live  as  peaceful  as  our 
cattle."  She  did  not  reckon  upon  the  force  with 
which  the  habits  of  a  life  bound  my  father  to  his 
business. 

I  remember  that  it  was  far  on  in  April,  1773,  when  my 
Aunt  Gainor  appeared  one  day  in  my  father's  count- 
ing-house.  Hers  was  a  well-known  figure  on  King 
street,  and  even  in  the  unpleasant  region  alongshore 
to  the  south  of  Dock  street.  She  would  dismount, 
leave  her  horse  to  the  groom,  and,  with  a  heavily 
mounted,  silver-topped  whip  in  hand,  and  her  riding- 
petticoat  gathered  up,  would  march  along,  picking 
her  way  through  mud  and  filth.  Here  she  contrived 
to  find  the  queer  china  things  she  desired,  or  in  some 
mysterious  way  she  secured  cordials  and  such  liquors 
as  no  one  else  could  get. 

Once  she  took  my  mother  with  her,  and  loaded  her 
with  gods  of  the  Orient  and  fine  China  pongee  silks. 

"  But,  Hugh,"  said  the  dear  lady,  ltil  n'est  pas  pos 
sible  de  vous  la  decrire.  Mon  Dieu  !  she  can  say  ter 
rible  words,  and  I  have  seen  a  man  who  ventured 
some  rudeness  to  me — no,  no,  mon  cher,  nothing  to 
anger  you ;  il  avait  peur  de  cette  femme.  He  was 
afraid  of  her— her  and  her  whip.  He  was  so  alarmed 
that  he  let  her  have  a  great  china  mandarin  for  a 
mere  nothing.  I  think  he  was  glad  to  see  her  well 
out  of  his  low  tavern." 

"  But  the  man,"  I  urged ;  "  what  did  he  say  to  thee, 
mother  ? " 

"  N*importej  mon  fils.  I  did  want  the  mandarin. 
He  nodded  this  way— this  way.  He  wagged  his  head 


or 
TJNIVERS 


80  HUGH  WYNNE 

as  a  dog  wags  liis  tail,  like  Thomas  Scattergood  in 
the  Meeting.  Comme  $d."  She  became  that  man  in  a 
moment,  turning  np  the  edge  of  her  silk  shawl,  and 
nodding  solemnly.  I  screamed  with  langhter.  Ever 
since  I  was  a  child,  despite  my  father's  dislikes,  she 
had  tanght  me  French,  and  when  alone  with  me 
liked  me  to  chatter  in  her  mother  language.  In 
fact,  I  learned  it  well. 

On  the  occasion  of  which  I  began  just  now  to 
speak,  my  Aunt  Gainor  entered,  with  a  graver  face 
than  common,  and  I  rising  to  leave  her  with  my 
father,  she  put  her  whip  across  my  breast  as  I  turned, 
and  said,  "No ;  I  want  you  to  hear  what  I  have  to 
say." 

"  What  is  it,  Gainor?" 

"This  business  of  the  ship  'Gaspee'the  Rhode  Isl 
and  men  burned  is  making  trouble  in  the  East.  The 
chief  justice  of  Rhode  Island,  Hopkins,  has  refused 
to  honour  the  order  to  arrest  these  Rhode-Islanders." 

"  Pirates  !  "  said  my  father. 

"  Pirates,  if  you  like.  We  shall  all  be  pirates  be 
fore  long." 

"Well,  Gainor,  is  that  all  ?  It  does  not  concern  me." 

"No;  I  have  letters  from  London  which  inform 
me  that  the  Lord  North  is  but  a  puppet,  and  as  the 
king  pulls  the  wires  he  will  dance  to  whatever  tune 
the  king  likes.  He  was  a  nice,  amiable  young  fellow 
when  I  stayed  at  his  father's,  my  Lord  Guilford's, 
and  not  without  learning  and  judgment.  But  for 
the  Exchequer— a  queer  choice,  I  must  say." 

"  It  is  to  be  presumed  that  the  king  knows  how  to 


HUGH  WYNNE  81 

choose  his  ministers.  Thou  knowest  what  I  think, 
Gainor.  We  have  but  to  obey  those  whom  the  Lord 
has  set  over  us.  We  are  told  to  render  unto  Caesar 
the  things  which  are  Caesar's,  and  to  go  our  ways  in 
peace." 

"The  question  is,  What  are  Caesar's?"  said  my 
aunt.  "  Shall  Caasar  judge  always  ?  I  came  to  tell 
you  that  it  is  understood  in  London,  although  not 
public,  that  it  is  meant  to  tax  our  tea.  Now  we  do 
not  buy;  we  smuggle  it  from  Holland;  but  if  the 
India  Company  should  get  a  drawback  on  tea,  we 
shall  be  forced  to  take  it  for  its  cheapness,  even  with 
the  duty  on  it  of  threepence  a  pound." 

"It  were  but  a  silly  scheme,  Gainor.  I  cannot 
credit  it." 

"  Who  could,  John  ?  and  yet  it  is  to  be  tried,  and 
all  for  a  matter  of  a  few  hundred  pounds  a  year.  It 
will  be  tried  not  now  or  soon,  but  next  fall  when  the 
tea-ships  come  from  China." 

"  And  if  it  is  to  be  as  thou  art  informed,  what  of 
it?" 

"A  storm — a  tempest  in  a  teapot,"  said  she. 

My  father  stood  still,  deep  in  thought.  He  had 
a  profound  respect  for  the  commercial  sagacity  of 
this  clear-headed  woman.  Moreover,  he  was  sure, 
as  usual,  to  be  asked  to  act  in  PHiladelphia  as  a  con 
signee  of  the  India  Company. 

She  seemed  to  see  through  her  brother,  as  one  sees 
through  glass.  "You  got  into  trouble  when  the 
stamps  came." 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  this?" 


82  HUGH  WYNNE 

"And  again  when  you  would  not  sign  the  Non 
importation  Agreement  in  '68." 

"Well?" 

"  They  will  ask  you  to  receive  the  tea." 

"  And  I  will  do  it.  How  can  I  refuse  ?  I  should 
lose  all  their  India  trade." 

"  There  will  soon  be  no  trade  to  lose.  You  are,  as 
I  know,  drawing  in  your  capital.  Go  abroad.  Wind 
up  your  affairs  in  England  j  do  the  same  in  Holland. 
Use  all  your  ships  this  summer.  Go  to  Madeira  from 
London.  Buy  freely,  and  pay  at  once  so  as  to  save 
interest ;  it  will  rise  fast.  Come  home  in  the  fall  of 
'74  late.  Hold  the  goods,  and,  above  all,  see  that 
in  your  absence  no  consignments  be  taken.  Am  I 
clear,  John?" 

I  heard  her  with  such  amazement  as  was  shared 
by  my  father.  The  boldness  and  sagacity  of  the 
scheme  impressed  a  man  trained  to  skill  in  com 
merce,  and  ever  given  to  courageous  ventures. 

"  You  must  sail  in  October  or  before ;  you  will 
need  a  year.  No  less  will  do." 

"Yes— yes." 

I  saw  from  his  look  that  he  was  captured.  He 
walked  to  and  fro,  while  my  Aunt  Gainor  switched 
the  dust  off  her  petticoat  or  looked  out  of  the  win* 
dow.  At  last  she  turned  to  me.  "  What  think  you 
of  it,  Hugh?" 

"Mr.  Wilson  says  we  shall  have  war,  aunt,  and 
Mr.  Attorney-General  Chew  is  of  the  same  opinion. 
I  heard  them  talking  of  it  last  night  at  thy  house.  I 
think  the  king's  officers  want  a  war."  I  took  refuge, 


HUGH  WYNNE  83 

shrewdly,  in  the  notions  of  my  elders.  I  had 
110  wiser  thing  to  say.  "  I  myself  do  not  know/7  I 
added. 

"  How  shouldst  thou  ? "  said  my  father,  sharply. 

I  was  silent. 

"  And  what  think  you,  John  ? " 

"  What  will  my  wife  say,  Gainor  ?  We  have  never 
been  a  month  apart.'7 

"  Let  me  talk  to  her." 

"  Wilt  thou  share  in  the  venture  ? "  He  was  testing 
the  sincerity  of  her  advice.  "  And  to  what  extent  ?  " 

"Five  thousand  pounds.  You  may  draw  on  me 
from  London,  and  buy  powder  and  muskets,"  she 
added,  with  a  smile. 

"  Not  I.     Why  dost  thou  talk  such  f oily ! " 

"  Then  Holland  blankets  and  good  cloth.  I  will 
take  them  off  your  hands  at  a  fair  profit." 

"  I  see  no  objection  to  that." 

My  aunt  gave  me  a  queer  look,  saying,  "  The  poor 
will  need  them.  I  shall  sell  them  cheap." 

It  was  singular  that  I  caught  her  meaning,  while 
my  father,  reflecting  on  the  venture  as  a  whole,  did 
not. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  he  said. 

"  Then  a  word  more.  Be  careful  here  as  to  debts. 
Why  not  wind  up  your  business,  and  retire  with 
the  profit  you  will  make  ? "  It  was  the  same  advice 
my  mother  had  given,  as  I  well  knew. 

"  Hast  thou  been  talking  to  my  wife  ? "  he  said. 

"No,"  she  replied,  surprised;  "may  I?" 

"Yes.     As  to  going  out  of  business,  Gainor,  I 


84  HUGH  WYNNE 

should  be  but  a  lost  man.  I  am  not  as  well-to-do 
as  thou  dost  seem  to  think." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !  "  cried  my  aunt.  "  I  believe 
Thomas  Willing  is  no  better  off  in  what  you  call  this 
world's  gear,  nor  Franks,  nor  any  of  them.  You  like 
the  game,  and,  after  all,  what  is  it  but  a  kind  of  gam 
bling?  How  do  you  know  what  hands  the  ocean 
holds  ?  Your  ventures  are  no  better  than  my  guineas 
cast  down  on  the  loo-table."  These  two  could  never 
discuss  anything  but  what  it  must  end  in  a  dif 
ference. 

"  Thou  art  a  fool,  Gainor,  to  talk  such  wicked  non 
sense  before  this  boy.  It  is  not  worth  an  answer.  I 
hear  no  good  of  Hugh  of  late.  He  hath  been  a  con 
cern  to  James  Pemberton  and  to  my  friend,  Nicholas 
Wain,  and  to  me— to  me.  Thy  gambling  and  idle 
redcoats  are  snares  to  his  soul.  He  has  begun  to 
have  opinions  of  his  own  as  to  taxes,  and  concerning 
the  plain  duty  of  non-resistance.  As  if  an  idle  dog 
like  him  had  any  right  to  have  an  opinion  at  all ! " 

"  Tut !  tut !  "  cried  Miss  Wynne. 

"  I  am  not  idle,"  I  said,  "  if  I  am  a  dog." 

He  turned  and  seized  me  by  the  collar.  "  I  will 
teach  thee  to  answer  thy  elders."  And  with  this  he 
shook  me  violently,  and  caught  up  a  cane  from  a 
chair  where  he  had  laid  it. 

And  now,  once  again,  that  disposition  to  be  merry 
came  over  me,  and,  perfectly  passive,  I  looked  up  at 
him  and  smiled.  As  I  think  of  it,  it  was  strange  in 
a  young  fellow  of  my  age. 

"  Wouldst  thou  laugh?"  he  cried.     "Has  it  gone 


HUGH  WYNNE  85 

that  far  ? n  and  lie  raised  his  stick.  My  Aunt  Gainor 
jerked  it  out  of  his  hand,  and,  standing,  broke  it 
over  her  knee  as  if  it  had  been  a  willow  wand. 

He  fell  back,  crying,  "  Gainor !  Gainor !  " 

"  My  God !  man/7  she  cried,  "  are  you  mad  ?  If  I 
were  you  I  would  take  some  heed  to  that  hot  Welsh 
blood.  What  would  my  good  Marie  say  ?  Why  have 
you  not  had  the  sense  to  make  a  friend  of  the  boy  ? 
He  is  worth  ten  of  you,  and  has  kept  his  temper  like 
the  gentleman  he  is." 

It  was  true.  I  had  some  queer  sense  of  amusement 
in  the  feeling  that  I  really  was  not  angry;  neither 
was  I  ashamed ;  but  an  hour  later  I  was  both  angry 
and  ashamed.  Just  now  I  felt  sorry  for  my  father, 
and  shared  the  humiliation  he  evidently  felt. 

My  aunt  turned  to  her  brother,  where,  having  let 
me  go,  he  stood  with  set  features,  looking  from  her 
to  me,  and  from  me  to  her.  Something  in  his  look 
disturbed  her. 

"You  should  be  proud  of  his  self-command.  Can 
not  you  see  that  it  is  your  accursed  repression  and 
dry,  dreary  life  at  home  that  has  put  you  two  apart  ? " 

"  I  have  been  put  to  scorn  before  my  son,  Gainor 
Wynne.  It  is  thy  evil  ways  that  have  brought  this 
about.  I  have  lost  my  temper  and  would  have  struck 
in  anger,  when  I  should  have  reflected,  and,  after 
prayer,  chastised  this  insolence  at  home." 

"  I  heard  no  insolence." 

"Go  away,  Hugh,  and  thou,  Gainor.  Why  dost 
thou  always  provoke  me  ?  I  will  hear  no  more  !  " 

"  Come,  Hugh,"  she  said  j  and  then :  "  It  seems  to 


86  HUGH  WYNNE 

me  that  the  boy  has  had  a  good  lesson  in  meekness, 
and  as  to  turning  that  other  cheek." 

"  Don't,  Aunt  Gainor !  "  said  I,  interrupting  her. 

"  Oh,  go !  "  exclaimed  my  father.  "  Go !  go,  both 
of  you ! " 

"  Certainly ;  but,  John,  do  not  mention  my  news 
or  my  London  letter." 

"I shall  not." 

"  Then  by-by  !     Come,  Hugh !  " 


VI 


[HERE  must  have  been  in  this  troubled 
country  many  such  sad  scenes  as  I  have 
tried  to  recall.  Father  and  son  were 
to  part  with  hot  words,  brother  to  take 
sides  against  brother.  My  unpleasant 
half -hour  was  but  prophetic  of  that  which  was  to 
come  in  worse  shape,  and  to  last  for  years. 

My  Aunt  Gainor  said,  "  Do  not  tell  your  mother/' 
and  I  assuredly  did  not. 

"  He  will  tell  her.  He  tells  her  everything,  soon 
or  late.  I  must  see  her  at  once.  Your  father  is  be 
coming,  as  the  French  say,  impossible.  The  times, 
and  these  wrangling  Friends,  with  their  stupid  tes 
timonies,  irritate  him  daily  until  he  is  like  a  great, 
strong  bull,  such  as  the  Spaniards  tease  to  madness 
with  little  darts  and  fireworks.  You  see,  Hugh, 
events  are  prickly  things.  They  play  the  deuce  with 
obstinate  people.  Your  father  will  be  better  away 
from  home.  He  has  never  been  in  England,  and  he 
will  see  how  many,  like  Mr.  Pitt  and  Colonel  Barre, 
are  with  us.  As  for  myself,  I  have  been  a  bit  of  a 
fool  about  you,  and  your  father  is  more  or  less  right. 
We  must  abjure  sack  and  take  physic," 

87 


88  HUGH  WYNNE 

"What?  "said  I. 

"To  be  plain,  we  must— that  is,  you  must— play 
less  and  drink  less,  and  in  your  father's  absence 
look  sharply,  with  my  help,  to  his  business." 

I  was  to  need  other  doctors  before  I  mended  my 
ways.  I  said  my  aunt  was  right,  and  I  made  cer 
tain  good  resolutions,  which  were  but  short-lived  and 
never  reached  adult  maturity  of  usefulness. 

My  aunt  walked  with  me  north  between  the  ware 
houses,  taverns,  and  ship-chandlers  on  the  river 
front,  and  so  across  the  bridge  over  Dock  Creek,  and 
up  to  Third  street.  She  said  I  must  not  talk  to  her. 
She  had  thinking  to  do,  and  for  this  cause,  I  suppose, 
turning,  took  me  down  to  Pine  street.  At  St.  Peter's 
Church  she  stopped,  and  bade  me  wait  without,  add 
ing,  "  If  I  take  you  in  I  shall  hear  of  it ;  wait." 

There  was  a  midday  service  at  this  time,  it  being 
Lent.  I  waited  idly,  thinking  of  my  father,  and,  as 
I  before  said,  vexed  and  sorry  and  ashamed  by  turns. 
Often  now  I  pause  before  I  enter  this  sacred  edifice, 
and  think  of  that  hour  of  tribulation.  I  could  hear 
the  fine,  full  voice  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Duche  as  he  in 
toned  the  Litany.  He  lies  now  where  I  stood,  and 
under  the  arms  on  his  tomb  is  no  record  of  the 
political  foolishness  and  instability  of  a  life  otherwise 
free  from  blame.  As  I  stood,  Mrs.  Ferguson  came 
out,  she  who  in  days  to  come  helped  to  get  the  un 
lucky  parson  into  trouble.  With  her  came  my  aunt. 

"  I  said  a  prayer  for  thee,  Hugh,"  she  whispered. 
"  No  j  no  cards  in  Lent,  my  dear  Bess.  Fie !  for 
shame !  This  way,  Hugh ; "  and  we  went  east, 


HUGH  WYNNE  89 

through  Pine  street,  and  so  to  the  back  of  our  gar 
den,  where  we  found  a  way  in,  and,  walking  under 
the  peach-trees,  came  to  where  my  mother  sat  be 
neath  a  plum-tree,  shelling  peas,  her  great  Manx  cat 
by  her  side. 

She  wore  a  thin  cap  on  top  of  the  curly  head, 
wilich  was  now  wind-blown  out  of  all  order.  "  Come, 
Gainor,"  she  cried,  seeing  us ;  "  help  me  to  shell  my 
peas.  Thou  shalt  have  some.  They  are  come  in  a 
ship  from  the  Bermudas.  What  a  pretty  pale  green 
the  pods  are  !  I  should  like  an  apron  of  that  colour." 

"  I  have  the  very  thing,  dear.  Shall  it  be  the  min 
uet  pattern,  or  plain  ?  " 

"Oh,  plain.  Am  I  not  a  Friend ?  UneAmief  del! 
but  it  is  droll  in  French.  Sarah  Logan  is  twice  as 
gay  as  I,  but  John  does  not  love  such  vanities.  Quant 
d  moijje  les  adore.  It  seems  odd  to  have  a  colour  to  a 
religion.  I  wonder  if  drab  goodness  be  better  than 
red  goodness.  But  what  is  wrong,  Gainor?  Yes, 
there  is  something.  Hugh,  thy  collar  is  torn ;  how 
careless  of  me  not  to  have  mended  it !  " 

Then  my  Aunt  Gainor,  saying  nothing  of  my 
especial  difficulty,  and  leaving  out,  too,  her  London 
news,  related  with  remarkable  clearness  the  reasons 
why  my  father  should  go  overseas  in  the  early  fall  and 
be  gone  for  a  year.  The  mother  went  on  quietly  shell 
ing  the  peas,  and  losing  no  word.  When  Gainor  had 
done,  the  bowl  of  peas  was  set  aside,  and  my  mother 
put  back  her  curls,  fixed  her  blue  eyes  on  her  sister- 
in-law,  and  was  silent  for  a  moment  longer.  At  last 
she  said,  "It  were  best,  for  many  reasons  best.  I  see 


90  HUGH  WYNNE 

it,"  and  she  nodded  her  head  affirmatively.     ts  But 
my  son  ?  my  Hugh  ? " 

"You  will  have  him  with  you  at  home.  Every 
thing  will  go  on  as  usual,  except  that  John  will  be 
amusing  himself  in  London." 

At  this  the  little  lady  leaped  up,  all  ablaze,  so  to 
speak.  Never  had  I  seen  her  so  moved.  "  What  man 
ner  of  woman  am  I,  Gainor  Wynne,  that  I  should  let 
my  husband  go  alone  on  the  seas,  and  here  and  there, 
without  me?  I  will  not  have  it.  My  boy  is  my 
boy ;  God  knows  I  love  him ;  but  my  husband  comes 
first  now  and  always,  and  tnou  art  cruel  to  wish  to 
part  us." 

"  But  I  never  wished  to  part  you.  Go  with  him, 
Marie.  God  bless  your  sweet  heart !  Leave  me  your 
boy;  he  cannot  go.  As  God  lives,  I  will  take  care 
of  him ! " 

Upon  this  the  two  women  fell  to  weeping  in  each 
other's  arms,  a  thing  most  uncommon  for  my  Aunt 
Gainor.  Then  they  talked  it  all  over,  as  if  John 
Wynne  were  not :  when  it  would  be,  and  what  room 
I  was  to  have,  and  my  clothes,  and  the  business,  and 
so  on — all  the  endless  details  wherewith  the  cunning 
affection  of  good  women  knows  to  provide  comfort 
for  us,  who  are  so  apt  to  be  unthankful. 

It  amazed  me  to  see  how  quickly  it  was  settled, 
and  still  more  to  learn  that  my  father  did  not  oppose, 
but  fell  in  with  all  their  plans. 

Now  back  of  all  my  weaknesses  and  folly  I  had, 
as  I  have  said,  some  of  the  sense  of  honour  and  proud 
rectitude  of  my  father,  who  strictly  abided  by  his 


HUGH  WYNNE  91 

creed  and  his  conscience.  I  returned  no  more  that 
day  to  the  counting-house,  but,  saying  to  my  mother 
I  had  business,  I  went  off,  with  a  hunk  of  bread,  to 
my  boat,  and  down  the  creek  to  the  Delaware.  I 
pulled  out,  past  our  old  playground  on  the  island,  and 
far  away  toward  the  Jersey  shore,  and  then,  as  the 
sun  fell,  drifted  with  the  tide,  noting  the  ruddy  lines 
of  the  brick  houses  far  away,  and  began  to  think. 

The  scene  I  had  gone  through  had  made  a  deep 
impression.  It  has  been  ever  so  with  me.  Drink 
ing,  gaming,  betting,  and  worse,  never  awakened  my 
conscience  or  set  me  reflecting,  until  some  sudden, 
unlooked-for  thing  took  place,  in  which  sentiment 
or  affection  was  concerned.  Then  I  would  set  to 
work  to  balance  my  books  and  determine  my  course. 
At  such  times  it  was  the  dear  mother  who  spoke  in 
me,  and  the  father  who  resolutely  carried  out  my 
decision. 

The  boat  drifted  slowly  with  the  flood-tide,  and  I, 
lying  on  the  bottom,  fell  to  thought  of  what  the  day 
had  brought  me.  The  setting  sun  touched  the  single 
spire  of  Christ  Church,  and  lit  up  yellow  squares  of 
light  in  the  westward-looking  windows  of  the  rare 
farm-houses  on  the  Jersey  shore.  Presently  I  was 
aground  on  the  south  end  of  Petty's  Island,  where  in 
after-years  lay  rotting  the  "Alliance,"  the  remnant  ship 
of  the  greatest  sea-fight  that  ever  was  since  Grenville 
lay  in  the  "  Revenge,"  with  the  Spanish  fleet  about  him. 
I  came  to  ground  amid  the  reeds  and  spatter-docks, 
where  the  water-lilies  were  just  in  bud.  A  noisy 
orchestra  of  frogs,  with,  as  Jack  said,  fiddles  and 


92  HUGH  WYNNE 

bassoons  in  their  throats,  ceased  as  I  came,  and 
pitched  headlong  off  the  broad  green  floats.  Only 
one  old  fellow,  with  a  great  bass  voice,  and  secure 
on  the  bank,  protested  loudly  at  intervals,  like  the 
owl  in  Mr.  Gray's  noble  poem,  which  my  Jack  loved 
to  repeat. 

At  last  he— I  mean  my  frog— whose  monastery  I 
had  disturbed,  so  vexed  me,  who  wanted  stillness,  that 
I  smacked  the  water  with  the  flat  of  an  oar,  which 
he  took  to  be  a  hint,  and  ceased  to  lament  my  in 
trusion. 

I  was  now  well  on  to  twenty,  and  old  enough  to 
begin  at  times  to  deal  thoughtfully  with  events.  A 
young  fellow's  feelings  are  apt  to  be  extreme,  and 
even  despotic,  so  that  they  rule  the  hour  with  such 
strength  of  sway  as  may  be  out  of  proportion  to  the 
cause.  I  might  have  seen  that  I  had  no  just  cause  to 
blame  myself,  but  that'  did  not  help  me.  The  mood 
of  distressful  self -accusation  was  on  me.  I  had  no 
repeated  impulse  to  smile  at  what,  in  my  father's 
conduct,  had  appeared  to  me  a  little  while  ago  odd, 
and  even  amusing.  I  could  never  please  him.  I  had 
grinned  as  I  always  did  when  risks  were  upon  me. 
He  never  understood  me,  and  I  was  tired  of  trying. 
What  use  was  it  to  try  f  I  had  one  of  those  minutes 
of  wishing  to  die,  which  come  even  to  the  wholesome 
young.  I  was  well  aware  that  of  late  I  had  not, 
on  the  whole,  satisfied  my  conscience ;  I  knew  this 
quite  too  well  ;  and  now,  as  I  lay  in  the  boat  dis 
contented,  I  felt,  as  the  youthful  do  sometimes  feel, 
as  if  I  were  old,  and  the  ending  of  things  were  near. 


HUGH  WYNNE  93 

It  was  but  a  mood,  but  it  led  up  to  serious  thought. 
There  are  surely  hours  in  youth  when  we  are  older 
than  our  years,  and  times  in  age  when  we  are  again 
young.  Sometimes  I  wonder  whether  Jack  was  right, 
who  used  to  say  it  may  be  we  are  never  young  or  old, 
but  merely  seem  to  be  so.  This  is  the  queer  kind  of 
reflection  which  I  find  now  and  then  in  Jack's  diary, 
or  with  which  he  used  to  puzzle  me  and  please 
James  Wilson.  Of  course  a  man  is  young  or  is  old. 
and  there  's  an  end  on  7t,  as  a  greater  man  has  said. 
But  Jack  has  imagination,  and  I  have  none. 

I  asked  myself  if  I  had  done  wrong  in  what  I  had 
said.  I  could  not  see  that  I  had.  With  all  my  life 
long  fear  of  my  father,  I  greatly  honoured  and  re 
spected  him,  finding  in  myself  something  akin  to  the 
unyielding  firmness  with  which  he  stood  fast  when 
he  had  made  up  his  mind. 

That  this  proud  and  steadfast  man,  so  looked  up  to 
by  every  one,  no  matter  what  might  be  their  convic 
tions  religious  or  political,  should  have  been  humili 
ated  by  a  woman,  seemed  to  me  intolerable;  this 
was  the  chief  outcome  of  my  reflections.  It  is  true 
I  considered,  but  I  fear  lightly,  my  own  misdoings. 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  better,  and  then  again  the 
image  of  my  father  in  his  wrath  and  his  shame  came 
back  anew.  I  turned  the  boat,  and  pulled  steadily 
across  the  river  to  our  landing. 

My  father  was  in  the  counting-house  in  his  own 
room,  alone,  although  it  was  full  late.  "  Well  ? "  he 
said,  spinning  round  on  his  high  stool.  "  What  is 
it  ?  Thou  hast  been  absent,  and  no  leave  asked." 


94  HUGH  WYNNE 

"Father,"  I  said,  "if  I  was  wrong  this  morning  I 
wish  to  ask  thy  pardon." 

"Well,  it  is  full  time." 

"  And  I  am  come  to  say  that  I  will  take  the  punish 
ment  here  and  now.  I  did  not  run  away  from  that." 

"  Very  good,"  he  replied,  rising.  "  Take  off  thy 
fine  coat." 

I  wished  he  had  not  said  this  of  my  coat.  I  was 
in  a  heroic  temper,  and  the  sarcasm  bit  cruelly,  but 
I  did  as  I  was  bid.  He  went  to  the  corner,  and 
picked  up  a  rattan  cane.  To  whip  fellows  of  nine 
teen  or  twenty  was  not  then  by  any  means  unusual. 
What  would  have  happened  I  know  not,  nor  ever 
shall.  He  said,  "  There,  I  hear  thy  mother's  voice. 
Put  on  thy  coat."  I  hastened  to  obey  him. 

The  dear  lady  came  in  with  eyes  full  of  tears. 
"  What  is  this,  John,  I  hear  ?  I  have  seen  Gainor. 
I  could  not  wait.  I  shall  go  with  thee." 

"No,"  he  said;  "that  is  not  to  be."  But  she  fell 
on  his  neck,  and  pleaded,  and  I,  for  my  part,  went 
away,  not  sorry  for  the  interruption.  As  usual  she 
had  her  way. 

I  remember  well  this  spring  of  '73.  It  was  early 
by  some  weeks,  and  everything  was  green  and  blos 
soming  in  April.  My  father  and  mother  were  not  to 
sail  until  the  autumn,  but  already  he  was  arranging 
for  the  voyage,  and  she  as  busily  preparing  or  think 
ing  over  what  was  needed. 

When  next  I  saw  my  Aunt  Gainor,  she  cried  out, 
"  Sit  down  there,  bad  boy,  and  take  care  of  my  man 
darin.  He  and  my  great  bronze  Buddha  are  my  only 


HUGH  WYNNE 


counsellors.  If  I  want  to  do  a  thing  I  ask  Mr.  Man 
darin — he  can  only  nod  yes ;  and  if  I  want  not  to  do 
a  thing  I  ask  Buddha,  and  as  he  can  neither  say  no 
nor  yes,  I  do  as  I  please.  What  a  wretch  you  are  !  " 

I  said  I  could  not  see  it ;  and  then  I  put  my  head 
in  her  lap,  as  I  sat  on  the  stool,  and  told  her  of  my 
last  interview  with  my  father,  and  how  for  two  days 
he  had  hardly  so  much  as  bade  me  good-night. 

"It  is  his  way,  Hugh,"  said  my  aunt.  "I  am 
sorry;  but  neither  love  nor  time  will  mend  him. 
He  is  what  his  nature  and  the  hard  ways  of  Friends 
have  made  him." 

I  said  that  this  was  not  all,  nor  the  worst,  and 
went  on  to  tell  her  my  latest  grievance.  Our  family 
worship  at  home  was,  as  usual  with  Friends  in  those 
days,  conducted  at  times  in  total  silence,  and  was 
spoken  of  by  Friends  as  "  religious  retirement."  At 
other  times,  indeed  commonly,  a  chapter  of  the  Bible 
was  read  aloud,  and  after  that  my  father  would  some 
times  pray  openly.  On  this  last  occasion  he  took  ad 
vantage  of  the  opportunity  to  dilate  on  my  sins,  and  be 
fore  our  servants  to  ask  of  Heaven  that  I  be  brought 
to  a  due  sense  of  my  iniquities.  It  troubled  my 
mother,  who  arose  from  her  knees  in  tears,  and  went 
out  of  the  room,  whilst  I,  overcome  with  anger,  stood 
looking  out  of  the  window.  My  father  spoke  to  her 
as  she  opened  the  door,  but  she  made  no  answer,  nor 
even  so  much  as  turned  her  head.  It  brought  to  my 
memory  a  day  of  my  childhood,  when  my  father 
was  vexed  because  she  taught  me  to  say  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  He  did  not  approve,  and  would  have  no  set 


96  HUGH  WYNNE 

form  of  words  taught  me.  My  mother  was  angry 
too,  and  I  remember  my  own  amazement  that  any 
one  should  resist  my  father. 

When  rhad  told  my  aunt  of  the  indignity  put 
upon  me,  and  of  the  fading  remembrance  thus 
recalled,  she  said,  "  John  Wynne  has  not  changed, 
nor  will  he  ever."  She  declared  that,  after  all,  it  was 
her  fault — to  have  treated  me  as  if  I  were  a  man,  and 
to  have  given  me  too  much  money.  I  shook  my  head, 
but  she  would  have  it  she  was  to  blame,  and  then  said 
of  a  sudden,  "  Are  you  in  debt,  you  scamp  ?  Did  John 
pray  for  me  ? "  I  replied  that  I  owed  no  one  a  penny, 
and  that  she  had  not  been  remembered.  She  was 
glad  I  was  not  in  debt,  and  added,  "  Never  play  un 
less  you  have  the  means  to  pay.  I  have  been  very 
foolish.  That  uneasy  woman,  Bessy  Ferguson,  must 
needs  tell  me  so.  I  could  have  slapped  her.  They 
will  have  thy  sad  case  up  in  Meeting,  I  can  tell  thee." 

"  But  what  have  I  done  ? "     I  knew  well  enough. 

"  Tut !  you  must  not  talk  that  way  to  me ;  but  it  is 
my  fault.  Oh,  the  time  I  have  had  with  your  mother ! 
I  am  not  fit,  it  seems,  to  be  left  to  take  care  of  you. 
They  talk  of  leaving  you  with  Abijah  Hap  worthy— 
sour  old  dog !  I  wish  you  joy  of  him  !  n 

"Good  heavens  !"  I  exclaimed  j  for  among  my  aunt's 
gay  friends  I  had  picked  up  such  exclamatory  phrases 
as,  used  at  home,  would  have  astonished  my  father. 

"  Rest  easy,"  said  Mistress  Wynne  j  "  it  is  not  to  be. 
I  have  fought  your  battle,  and  won  it.  But  I  have 
had  to  make  such  promises  to  your  father,  and— woe 
is  me  !— to  your  mother,  as  will  damn  me  forever  if 


HUGH  WYNNE  97 

you  do  not  help  me  to  keep  them.  I  can  fib  to  your 
father  and  not  care  a  snap,  but  lie  to  those  blue  eyes 
I  cannot."  * 

"  I  will  try,  Aunt  Gainor  j  indeed  I  will  try."  In 
deed,  I  did  mean  to. 

"  You  must,  you  must.  I  am  to  be  a  sort  of  god- 
mother-in-law  to  you,  and  renounce  for  you  the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devil  j  and  that  for  one  of  our  breed ! 
I  shall  be  like  a  sign-post,  and  never  go  the  way  I 
point.  That  was  Bessy  Ferguson's  malice.  Oh,  I 
have  suffered,  I  can  tell  you.  It  is  I,  and  not  you,  that 
have  repented." 

"  But  I  will ;  I  do." 

"  That  is  all  very  well ;  but  I  have  had  my  whip 
ping,  and  you  got  off  yours." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  aunt  ? " 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  Here  came  yesterday  Sarah 
Fisher,  pretty  gay  for  a  Quaker,  and  that  solemn 
Master  Savory,  with  his  sweet,  low  voice  like  a  nice 
girl's  tongue,  and  his  gentle  ways.  And  they  are 
friends  of  thy  people,  who  are  distressed  at  thy  go 
ings  on  j  and  Nicholas  Wain  has  seen  thee  with  two 
sons  of  Belial  in  red  coats,  come  out  of  the  coffee 
house  last  month  at  evening,  singing  songs  such  as 
are  not  to  be  described,  and  no  better  able  to  take 
care  of  yourself  than  you  should  be.  They  did  think 
it  well  and  kind— hang  'em,  Hugh  !— to  consider  the 
matter  with  me.  We  considered  it— we  did,  indeed. 
There  be  five  people  whose  consciences  I  am  to  make 
you  respect.  And  not  one  of  them  do  I  care  for, 
but  Mother  Blue-eyes.  But  I  must !  I  must !  It  was 


98  HUGH  WYNNE 

all  true,  sir,  what  Friend  Wain  said;  for  you  had 
reason  enough  left  to  come  hither,  and  did  I  not  put 
you  to  bed  and  send  for  Dr.  Chovet,  who  grinned 
famously,  and  said,  '  Je  comprendsj  and  went  to  call 
on  your  father  on  a  hint  from  me,  to  declare  you  were 
enrhum£,  and  threatened  with  I  know  not  what ;  in 
fact,  he  lied  like  a  gentleman.  You  made  a  noble  re 
covery,  and  are  a  credit  to  the  doctor.  I  hope  you 
will  pay  the  bill,  and  are  ashamed." 

I  was,  and  I  said  so. 

"But  that  is  not  all.  These  dear  Quakers  were 
the  worst.  They  were  really  sorry,  and  I  had  to  put 
on  my  best  manners  and  listen ;  and  now  everybody 
knows,  and  you  are  the  talk  of  the  town.  Those  drab 
geese  must  out  with  the  whole  naughtiness,  despite 
the  company  which  came  in  on  us,  and  here  were 
Mr.  Montresor  and  that  ape  Etherington  grinning, 
and,  worst  of  all,  a  charming  young  woman  just  come 
to  live  here  with  her  aunt,  and  she  too  must  have 
her  say  when  the  Quakers  and  the  men  were  gone." 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  "  I  did  not  care  much. 
"And  what  is  her  name  ? " 

"  Oh,  she  said  the  Quakers  were  rather  outspoken 
people,  and  it  was  a  pity,  and  she  was  sorry,  because 
she  knew  you  once,  and  you  had  taken  her  part  at 
school." 

"At  school?" 

"  Yes.  She  is  Darthea  Peniston,  and  some  kin  of 
that  Miss  de  Lancey,  whom  Sir  William  Draper  will 
marry  if  he  can." 

"Darthea  Peniston?"  I  said,  and  my  thoughts 


HUGH  WYNNE  99 

went  back  to  the  tender  little  maid  who  wept  when 
I  was  punished,  and  for  whom  I  had  revenged  my 
self  on  Master  Dove. 

"  Quite  a  Spanish  beauty/'  said  my  Aunt  Wynne ; 
"  a  pretty  mite  of  a  girl,  and  not  more  money  than 
will  clothe  her,  they  say ;  but  the  men  mad  about  her. 
Come  and  see  her  to-morrow  if  you  are  sober." 

«  0  Aunt  Gainor  !  " 

"Yes,  sir.  I  hear  Mr.  Montresor  has  leave  from 
Anthony  Morris  to  invite  you  to  '  The  Colony  in 
Sehuylkill'  to-morrow.  It  is  well  your  father  has 
gone  to  visit  Mr.  Yeates  at  Lancaster." 

"  I  shall  behave  myself,  Aunt  Gainor." 

"  I  hope  so.     The  Fish  House  punch  is  strong." 

I  went  home  thinking  of  Miss  Darfchea  Peniston, 
and  filled  with  desire  to  lead  a  wiser  life.  It  was  full 
time.  My  aunt's  lavish  generosity  had,  as  I  have  said, 
given  me  means  to  live  freely  among  the  officers, 
who  were,  with  some  exceptions,  a  dissolute  set.  To 
be  with  them  made  it  needful  to  become  deceitful 
and  to  frame  excuses,  so  that,  when  I  was  supposed 
to  be  at  my  aunt's,  or  riding,  I  was  free  that  past  win 
ter  to  go  on  sleighing-parties  or  to  frequent  taverns, 
pleased  with  the  notice  I  got  from  men  like  Montre 
sor  and  the  officers  of  the  Scotch  Grays. 

I  have  dwelt  not  at  all  on  these  scenes  of  dissipa 
tion.  It  is  enough  to  mention  them.  My  father  was 
wrapped  up  in  his  business,  and  full  of  cares  both 
worldly  and  spiritual ;  for  now  Friends  were  becom 
ing  politically  divided,  and  the  meetings  were  long 
and  sometimes  agitated. 


100  HUGH  WYNNE 

My  good  mother  was  neither  deceived  nor  uncon 
cerned.  She  talked  to  me  often,  and  in  such  a  way 
as  brings  tears  to  my  eyes  even  now  to  think  of 
the  pain  I  gave  her.  Alas !  it  is  our  dearest  who 
have  the  greatest  power  to  wound  us.  I  wept  and 
promised,  and  went  back  to  my  husks  and  evil  com 
pany. 

I  have  no  wish  to  conceal  these  things  from  my 
children.  It  is  well  that  our  offspring  when  young 
should  think  us  angels;  but  it  were  as  well  that 
when  they  are  older  they  should  learn  that  we  have 
been  men  of  like  passions  with  themselves,  and  have 
known  temptation,  and  have  fought,  and  won  or  lost, 
our  battles  with  sin.  It  is  one  of  the  weaknesses  of 
nations,  as  well  as  of  children,  that  they  come  to 
consider  their  political  fathers  as  saints.  I  smile 
when  I  think  of  the  way  people  nowadays  think  of 
our  great  President,  as  of  a  mild  genius,  incapable 
of  being  moved  to  anger  or  great  mirth,  a  man  un 
spotted  of  the  world.  They  should  have  heard  him 
at  Monmouth,  when  Lee  failed  him  in  a  time  of  peril, 
or  seen  him,  as  I  have  seen  him,  soberly  merry  over 
his  wine  with  Knox.  But  some  day  you  shall  see 
him  as  my  friend  Jack  and  I  saw  him,  and  you  will, 
I  trust,  think  no  worse  of  him  for  being  as  human 
as  he  was  just. 

The  day  of  my  more  honest  repentance  was  near, 
and  I  knew  not  that  it  was  to  be  both  terrible  and 
of  lasting  value.  I  sometimes  reflect  upon  the  curi 
ous  conditions  with  which  my  early  manhood  was 
surrounded.  Here  was  I,  brought  up  in  the  strictest 


HUGH  WYNNE  101 

ways  of  a  sect  to  which  I  do  no  injustice  if  I  describe 
it  as  ascetic.  At  home  I  saw  plain  living,  and  no 
luxury,  save  as  to  diet,  which  my  father  would  have 
of  the  best  money  could  buy.  I  was  taught  the  ex 
treme  of  non-resistance,  and  absolute  simplicity  as 
to  dress  and  language.  Amuseinerrt's;  there  were 
none,  and  my  father  read  no  books  except  '- 
dealt  with  things  spiritual,  or '•  things-  cxm 
At  my  aunt's,  and  in  the  society  I  saw  at  her  house, 
there  were  men  and  women  who  loved  to  dance, 
gamble,  and  amuse  themselves.  The  talk  was  of 
bets,  racing,  and  the  like.  To  be  drunk  was  a  thing 
to  be  expected  of  officers  and  gentlemen.  To  avenge 
an  insult  with  sword  or  pistol  was  the  only  way  to 
deal  with  it.  My  father  was  a  passive  Tory,  my 
aunt  a  furious  Whig.  What  wonder  that  I  fell  a 
victim  to  temptation  ? 


VII 


[HE  next  day,  having  seen  to  matters  of 
business  in  the  morning,  I  set  out  after 
dinner  in  my  finest  clothes  to  join  my 
friends.  I  fear  that  I  promised  my  mo 
ther  to  be  careful,  and  to  be  at  home 
by  nine  o'clock. 

I  met  Captain  Montresor  at  the  London  Coffee 
house,  at  High  and  Front  streets,  and,  having  taken 
a  chaise,  drove  out  through  the  woods  to  the  upper 
ferry,  and  thence  to  Egglesfield,  the  seat  of  Mr.  War 
ner,  from  whom  the  club  known  then  as  "  The  Colony 
in  Schuylkill "  held  under  a  curious  tenure  the  acre 
or  two  of  land  where  they  had  built  a  log  cabin  and 
founded  this  ancient  and  singular  institution.  Here 
were  met  Anthony  Morris,  who  fell  at  Trenton,  Mr. 
Tench  Francis,  sometime  Attorney-General,  Mifflin, 
and  that  Galloway  who  later  became  a  Tory,  with 
Mr.  Willing,  and  others  of  less  note,  old  and  young. 
I  was  late  for  the  annual  ceremony  of  presenting 
three  fish  to  Mr.  Warner,  this  being  the  condition  on 
which  the  soil  was  held,  but  I  saw  the  great  pewter 
dish  with  the  Penn  arms,  a  gift  from  that  family,  on 
which  the  fish  were  offered. 

It  was  a  merry  and  an  odd  party  j  for,  clad  in  white 
102 


HUGH  WYNNE  103 

aprons,  the  apprentices,  so  called,  cooked  the  dinner 
and  served  it ;  and  the  punch  and  Madeira  went  round 
the  table  often  enough,  as  the  "king's  health"  was 
drunk,  and  "  success  to  trade,"  and  "  the  ladies,  God 
bless  them !  " 

I  liked  it  well,  and,  with  my  aunt's  warning  in 
mind,  drank  but  little,  and  listened  to  the  talk,  which 
was  too  free  at  times,  as  was  the  bad  custom  of  that 
day,  and  now  and  then  angry ;  for  here  were  some 
who  were  to  die  for  their  country,  and  some  who  were 
to  fail  it  in  the  hour  of  need. 

Despite  my  English  friends,  and  thanks  to  Mr. 
Wilson  and  my  Aunt  G-ainor,  I  was  fast  becoming  an 
ardent  Whig,  so  that  the  talk,  in  which  I  had  small 
share,  interested  me  deeply.  At  last,  about  seven,  the 
pipes  having  been  smoked  and  much  punch  taken, 
the  company  rose  to  go,  some  of  them  the  worse  for 
their  potations. 

We  drove  into  town,  and  at  the  coffee-house  put 
up  and  paid  for  our  chaise.  I  said  good-by  to  Mr. 
Montresor,  who,  I  think,  had  been  charged  by  Miss 
Wynne  to  look  after  me,  when  a  Captain  Small, 
whom  I  knew,  stopped  me.  He  was  well  known  as 
one  of  the  most  reckless  of  the  younger  officers,  a 
stout,  short  man,  rather  heroically  presented  long 
afterward,  in  TrumbulPs  picture  of  the  "  Death  of 
Warren,"  as  trying  to  put  aside  the  bayonets.  As  I 
paused  to  reply,  I  saw  Jack  Warder  standing  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street.  He  nodded,  smiling,  and 
made  as  if  he  were  about  to  cross  over.  He  had 
many  times  talked  with  me  seriously  this  winter, 


104  HUGH  WYNNE 

until  I  had  become  vexed,  and  told  him  he  was  a 
milksop.  After  this  I  saw  little  of  him.  Now  I  was 
annoyed  at  the  idea  that  he  was  spying  upon  my 
actions,  and  therefore,  like  a  fool,  merely  nodded, 
and,  turning  my  back  on  him,  heard  Mr.  Small  say : 
"You  must  not  go  yet,  Mr.  Wynne.  We  are  to 
have  supper  upstairs,  and  you  will  like  to  see  a  gen 
tleman  of  your  name,  Mr.  Arthur  Wynne,  of  the  Scots 
Grays.  He  tells  me  he  is  of  distant  kin  to  you." 

Montresor  said  I  had  better  go  home,  but  Ether- 
ington  asked  if  I  wanted  my  bottle  and  nurse ;  and 
so  at  last,  partly  from  pride  and  partly  out  of  curi 
osity  to  see  this  other  Wynne,  I  said  I  would  remain 
long  enough  to  welcome  the  gentleman  and  take  a 
social  glass.  When  we  entered  the  room  upstairs, 
I  found  a  supper  of  cold  meats  and,  as  usual,  punch 
and  liquors.  There  were  two  dozen  or  more  officers 
in  undress  jackets,  their  caps  and  swords  in  the  cor 
ners,  and  also  two  or  three  of  the  younger  men  of 
the  Tory  or  doubtful  parties. 

Several  officers  called  to  me  to  sit  with  them,  for  I 
was  a  favourite,  and  could  troll  a  catch  or  sing  parts 
fairly  well.  My  companion,  Small,  said,  "  This  way, 
Wynne,"  and,  followed  by  Montresor  and  the  colonel 
of  the  Scots  Grays,  whose  name  I  forget,  we  moved 
to  a  table  remote  from  the  door.  Here  Montresor, 
pushing  past  Small,  said :  "  Captain  Wynne,  I  have 
the  honour  to  present  to  you  Mr.  Hugh  Wynne,  one 
of  your  family,  I  hear." 

Upon  this  there  rose  to  greet  me  a  gentleman  in 
the  undress  uniform  of  the  Grays.  He  was  tall  and 


HUGH  WYNNE  105 

well  built,  but  not  so  broad  or  strong  as  we  other 
Wynnes  j  certainly  an  unusually  handsome  man. 
He  carried  his  head  high,  was  very  erect,  and  had 
an  air  of  distinction,  for  which  at  that  time  I  should 
have  had  no  name.  I  may  add  that  he  was  dressed 
with  unusual  neatness,  and  very  richly ;  all  of  which, 
I  being  but  a  half -formed  young  fellow,  did  much 
impress  me. 

He  looked  at  me  so  steadily  as  we  came  near  that 
it  gave  me  a  rather  unpleasant  impression ;  for  those 
who  do  not  meet  the  eye  at  all  are  scarcely  less  dis 
agreeable  than  those  who  too  continually  watch  you, 
as  was  this  man's  way.  I  was  rather  young  to  be  a 
very  careful  observer  of  men's  faces,  but  I  did  see  that 
Captain  Wynne's  bore  traces  of  to'o  convivial  habits. 

As  I  recall  his  dark,  regular  features,  I  remember, 
for  we  met  often  afterward,  that  the  lower  part  of 
his  face  was  too  thin,  and  that  in  repose  his  mouth 
was  apt  not  to  remain  fully  shut,  a  peculiarity,  as  I 
now  think,  of  persons  of  weak  will. 

My  first  feeling  of  there  being  something  unpleas- 
ing  about  him  soon  left  me.  He  rose,  and,  with  gra- 
ciousness  and  the  ease  and  manner  of  one  used  to 
the  best  society,  moved  around  the  table  and  took 
my  hand. 

"I  am  but  a  far-away  kinsman,"  he  said,  "but  I 
am  charmed  to  make  your  acquaintance.  You  are 
like  the  picture  of  old  Sir  Robert  at  Wyncote,  where 
I  was  last  year  for  the  otter-hunting." 

I  greeted  him  warmly.  "  And  art  thou  living  at 
Wyncote  ? "  I  asked  rather  awkwardly. 


106 


HUGH  WYNNE 


"  No,  I  do  not  live  at  home.  I  am  but  a  cadet, 
and  yours  is  the  elder  branch."  Then  he  added  gaily, 
"  I  salute  you,  sir,  as  the  head  of  our  old  house.  Your 
very  good  health  !  "  And  at  this,  with  a  charm  of  man 
ner  I  have  seen  but  rarely,  he  put  a  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  and  added,  "We  must  be  friends,  Cousin 
Wynne,  and  I  must  know  your  father,  and  above  all 
Mistress  Wynne.  Montresor  never  ceases  talking  of 
her." 

I  said  it  would  give  me  pleasure  to  present  him ; 
then,  delighted  to  hear  of  Wyncote,  I  sat  down,  and, 
despite  a  warning  look  from  Montresor,  began  to  take 
wine  with  this  newly  found  kinsman. 

Mr.  Arthur  Wynne  was  a  man  fully  ten  years  my 
senior.  He  had  served  in  the  Guards,  and  in  the 
Indies,  and  was  full  of  stories  of  court  and  camp 
and  war,  such  as  every  young  fellow  of  spirit  likes 
to  hear. 

Captain  Montresor  lingered  awhile,  and  then,  find 
ing  it  vain  to  persist  in  his  purpose,  gave  it  up,  and 
fell  to  talking  with  one  of  his  fellow-officers,  while 
I  went  on  questioning  my  cousin  as  to  the  Wynnes 
to  their  uttermost  generation.  Either  he  cared  little 
about  them,  or  he  knew  little,  for  he  seemed  much 
to  prefer  to  tell  queer  stories  about  the  court  ladies, 
and  my  Lord  Chesterfield's  boor  of  a  son,  who  had 
such  small  manners  and  such  a  large  appetite,  and 
of  Sir  Guy  Carleton,  whom  he  was  about  to  join  in 
Canada.  He  advised  me  to  get  a  pair  of  colours  as 
my  aunt  had  once  desired,  and  seemed  surprised 
when  I  paraded  my  friend  Mr.  Wilson's  opinions  as 


HUGH  WYNNE  107 

my  own,  and  talked  of  taxation  and  the  oppression 
under  which  commerce  had  to  be  carried  on.  In  fact, 
as  to  this  I  knew  something ;  but  in  this,  as  in  other 
matters,  he  deferred  to  me  as  one  does  to  a  well- 
informed  talker  of  one's  own  age,  now  setting  me 
right  with  admirable  courtesy,  and  now  cordially 
agreeing. 

What  with  his  evident  desire  to  be  friendly,  and 
the  wine  I  was  taking,  I  fell  an  easy  prey  to  one  who 
rarely  failed  to  please  when  he  was  so  minded.  Too 
well  amused  to  reflect  that  the  hours  were  swiftly 
passing,  I  sat,  taking  glass  after  glass  mechanically. 
As  the  night  went  on  we  had  more  punch,  and  the 
dice  began  to  rattle  on  the  tables,  despite  the  land 
lord's  remonstrance,  who  feared  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  law  and  lose  his  licence.  But  a  lively  major 
called  out  that  here  was  licence  enough,  and  hustled 
him  out  of  the  room,  calling  for  more  rum-punch, 
and  stronger. 

Meanwhile  the  smoke  grew  thick  and  thicker. 
Here  and  there  a  song  broke  out,  and  the  clink  of 
coin  and  the  rattle  of  dice  went  on.  Then,  when  at 
last  Montresor  came  to  our  table  and  said  he  was 
going,  and  would  I  come  too,  I  rose,  and,  bidding 
my  kinsman  good-by,  went  with  the  captain.  I  heard 
him  swear  as  he  found  the  door  locked.  No  one 
seemed  to  know  who  had  the  key,  and  as  for  me,  not 
ill-pleased,  and  past  feeling  regret,  I  turned  back  and 
stood  over  a  table  where  some  officers  were  throwing 
a  main. 

Then  I  saw  in  a  corner  a  poor  fellow  who  used  to 


108  HUGH  WYNNE 

be  an  usher  at  the  academy,  and  who,  having  taken 
to  drink,  had  lost  his  place.  Now  he  was  a  sort  of 
servitor  in  the  coffee-house,  and  had  gotten  locked 
up  in  the  room  and  could  not  escape.  He  had  taken 
refuge  in  a  corner  at  a  deserted  table,  and,  sitting 
unnoticed,  was  solacing  himself  with  what  was  left 
of  a  bowl  of  punch.  A  sense  of  not  altogether  maudlin 
pity  came  upon  me,  and  I  went  over  and  sat  down 
beside  him.  No  one  took  any  heed  of  us.  The  air 
was  heavy  with  pipe-smoke,  oaths,  mad  catches  of 
song,  clink  of  glasses,  and  rattle  of  dice  noisily  cast, 
with  here  and  there  a  toast  cried ;  so  that  it  was  hard 
to  see  for  the  smoke,  or  to  hear  a  man  speak. 

"  Why,  Savoy !    How  earnest  thou  here  ? "  I  said. 

"  The  devil  fetched  me,  I  guess." 

He  was  far  gone  in  liquor.  "  I  am  like  Mr.  Sterne's 
starling :  '  I  can't  get  out.'  Ever  read  Mr.  Sterne's— 
what  is  it?— oh,  his  l Sentimental  Journey'?" 

Here  was  one  worse  than  I,  and  I  felt  inclined  to 
use  what  Friends  call  a  precious  occasion,  a  way 
being  opened. 

"  This  is  a  sad  business,  Savoy,"  I  said. 

"  Dre'ful,"  he  returned.  "  Fadlis  descensus  taverni. 
No  use  to  talk  to  me.  I  am  tired  of  life.  I  am  going 
to  die.  Some  men  shoot  themselves,  some  like  the 
rope,  and  some  cold  water.  You  know  what  Bishop 
what's-his-name— I  mean  Jeremy  Taylor— says  about 
ways  to  die  :  '  None  please  me.'  But  drink  is  the  best. 
I  mean  to  drink  myself  dead— dead— d— dead,"  and 
here  he  fell  on  to  my  shoulder.  Letting  him  down 
easily,  I  loosed  his  neckerchief,  and  stood  beside  him, 


HUGH  WYNNE  109 

pitiful  and  shocked.  Then  in  a  moment  I  felt  that 
I  was  drunk.  The  room  whirled,  and  with  an  effort 
I  got  to  the  open  window,  stumbling  over  legs  of  men, 
who  looked  up  from  their  cards  and  cursed  me. 

Of  what  chanced  after  this  I  knew  for  a  time  but 
little,  until  I  was  in  one  instant  sobered.  This  was 
an  hour  later,  and  nigh  to  twelve  o'clock.  What 
took  place  I  heard  from  others  j  and,  as  it  concerns 
a  turning-point  in  my  life,  I  shall  try  to  relate  it  as 
if  I  myself  had  been  conscious  all  the  while. 

The  better  for  air,  I  went  over  to  a  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room  not  far  from  the  door.  Leaning 
heavily  on  Captain  Small's  shoulder,  I  threw  on  the 
table  the  last  gold  joe  my  aunt  had  given  me  with  her 
final  lesson  in  morals. 

"  Best  in  three,  Etherington." 

"  Take  it,"  he  cried. 

I  threw  double  sixes,  he  threes,  and  I  deuce  ace. 
Then  he  cast  some  numbers  as  good.  Certainly  the 
devil  meant  to  have  me.  I  threw  a  third  time ;  a  six 
and  a  five  turned  up,  and  he  an  ace  and  a  four.  I 
had  won.  "  Double  or  quits,"  I  said  j  "  one  throw." 
I  won  again,  and  at  this  I  went  on  until  the  pile  of 
gold  grew  beneath  my  eyes,  amid  laughter,  curses, 
and  all  manner  of  vileness.  Presently  I  heard  the 
colonel  exclaim,  "This  won't  do,  gentlemen,"  and  I 
felt  some  one  trying  to  draw  me  from  the  table.  It 
was  Captain  Wynne.  I  cried  out,  "  Hands  off !  no 
liberties  with  me !  I  am  the  head  of  thy  house ; 
thou  art  only  a  cadet."  He  laughed  as  I  pushed  him 
aside. 


110  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  You  said  double  or  quits/7  cried  the  stout  major. 
How  he  got  into  the  game  I  knew  not. 

"It  is  a  mere  boy !  for  shame  !  "  cried  the  colonel. 
"  I  forbid  it." 

"  I  am  a  gentleman/'  I  said.  "  Thou  canst  order  thy 
officers  j  thou  canst  not  order  me/'  and  as  I  spoke  I  cast 
so  hard  that  I  crushed  the  box.  I  heard  some  one  cry, 
"  A  damn  pretty  Quaker  !  By  George,  he  has  lost!  A 
clean  hundred  pounds ! "  Even  in  this  drunken  revel 
there  was  a  pause  for  a  moment.  I  was,  after  all,  but 
a  tipsy  lad  of  twenty,  and  some  were  just  not  far 
enough  gone  to  feel  that  it  might  look  to  others  an 
ugly  business.  The  colonel  said  something  to  Major 
Milewood  as  to  disrespect,  I  hardly  know  what  j  for 
at  this  moment  there  was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door. 
In  the  lull  that  followed  I  heard  the  colonel's  voice. 

Then  the  tumult  broke  out  anew.  "  By  Jove,  it  is 
a  woman  !  "  cried  Wynne.  "  I  hear  her.  Wine  and 
women !  A  guinea  to  a  guinea  she  's  pretty !  " 

"  Done  !  "  cried  some  one. 

"Here  's  the  key,"  said  the  major  j  "let  's  have 
her  in." 

" Place  aux  dames"  hiccoughed  a  cornet. 

The  colonel  rose,  but  it  was  too  late.  Wynne, 
seizing  the  key,  unlocked  the  door  and  threw  it  wide 
open,  as  my  mother,  followed  by  Jack  Warder,  en 
tered  the  room,  and  stood  still  a  moment,  dazed. 

Captain  Wynne,  leering  and  unsteady,  caught  at 
her  waist,  exclaiming,  "  By  George !  she  might  be 
younger,  but  I  've  won.  A  toast !  a  toast !  A  Quaker, 
by  George ! " 


HUGH  WYNNE  111 

Whether  I  was  sobered  or  not,  I  know  not.  I  can 
only  say  that  of  a  sudden  I  was  myself ,  and  strangely 
quiet.  I  saw  the  dear  lady,  brave,  beautiful,  and 
with  her  curls  f  ailing  about  her  neck,  as  she  shrank 
back  from  the  man's  touch. 

"  Come,  Hugh/'  she  said. 

"  Yes,  mother,"  I  said  ;  "  but  first—"  and  I  struck 
Captain  Wynne  full  in  the  face,  so  that,  unprepared 
as  he  was,  he  fell  over  a  table  and  on  to  the  floor. 

Every  one  started  up.    There  was  instant  silence. 

In  a  moment  he  was  on  his  feet,  and,  like  myself, 
another  man.  Turning,  he  said,  with  amazing  coolness, 
wiping  the  blood  away,  for  I  was  strong,  and  had  hit 
hard,  "Madam,  I  beg  your  pardon;  we  have  been 
behaving  like  beasts,  and  I  am  fitly  punished.  As  to 
you,  Mr.  Wynne,  you  are  a  boy,  and  have  undertaken 
to  rough  it  with  men.  This  shall  go  no  further." 

"  It  shall  go  where  I  please,"  I  cried. 

"  No,  no  j  Hugh,  Hugh  !  "  said  my  mother. 

"We  will  talk  it  over  to-morrow,"  said  the  cap 
tain;  and  then,  turning,  "I  mean,  gentlemen,  that 
this  shall  stop  here.  If  any  man  thinks  I  am  wrong, 
let  him  say  so.  I  shall  know  how  to  settle  accounts 
with  him." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  colonel ;  "  you  are  right,  and  if 
any  officer  thinks  otherwise,  I  too  am  at  his  service." 
In  the  silence  which  came  after  he  added,  "  Permit 
me,  madam;"  and  offering  his  arm  to  my  mother, 
we  following,  they  went  downstairs,  Jack  and  I  after 
them,  and  so  into  the  street  and  the  reproachful  calm 
of  the  starlit  April  night. 


VIII 

VEN  so  far  away  as  now,"  says  Jack, 
writing  in  after-days,  "it  grieves  me 
to  think  of  that  winter,  and  of  this 
mad  scene  at  the  London  Coffee-house. 
When  I  saw  Hugh  go  in  with  the 
officers,  I  waited  for  an  hour,  and  then  went  away. 
Returning  later,  I  learned  that  he  was  still  upstairs. 
I  felt  that  if  I  stayed  until  he  came  forth,  although 
he  might  not  be  in  a  way  to  talk  to  me,  to  know  that 
I  had  waited  so  long  might  touch  him  and  help  him 
to  hear  me  with  patience.  I  walked  to  and  fro 
until  the  clock  had  struck  twelve,  fearful  and  troubled 
like  a  woman.  Sometimes  I  think  I  am  like  a  woman 
in  certain  ways,  but  not  in  all. 

"  There  were  many  people  who  loved  Hugh,  but, 
save  his  mother,  none  as  I  did.  He  had  a  serious 
kindliness  in  his  ways,  liking  to  help  people,  and  for 
me  at  certain  times  and  in  certain  crises  a  reassur 
ing  directness  of  swift  dealing  with  matters  in  hand, 
most  sustaining  to  one  of  my  hesitating  nature.  His 
courage  was  instinctive,  mine  the  result  of  obedi 
ence  to  my  will,  and  requiring  a  certain  resolute  effort. 
"  I  think  of  him  always  as  in  tim  e  of  peril,  throw 
ing  his  head  up  and  his  shoulders  back,  and  smiling, 
112 


HUGH   WYNNE  113 

with  very  wide-open  eyes,  like  his  mother's,  but  a 
deeper  blue.  The  friendship  of  young  men  has  often 
for  a  partial  basis  admiration  of  physical  force,  and 
Hugh  excelled  me  there,  although  I  have  never  been 
considered  feeble  or  awkward  except  among  those 
of  another  sex,  where  always  I  am  seen,  I  fear,  to 
disadvantage. 

•'  Just  after  twelve  I  saw  a  woman  coming  hastily 
up  Front  street.  As  she  came  to  a  pause  in  the  light 
which  streamed  from  the  open  door,  I  knew  her  for 
Madam  Marie,  as  she  had  taught  me  to  call  her.  She 
wore  a  caleche  hood,  fallen  back  so  that  I  saw  her 
hai^,  half  tumbled  from  under  the  thin  gauze  cap 
worn  on  the  top  of  the  head  by  most  Quakers.  She 
was  clad  quite  too  slightly,  and  had  for  wrap  only  a 
light,  gray  silk  shawl. 

"  '  Mon  Dieu ! '  she  exclaimed,  1 1  had  to  come. 
Jack,  is  he  here  ?  Tl  faut  que  je  monte,  I  must  go 
upstairs.'  In  excitement  she  was  apt  to  talk  French, 
and  then  to  translate.  '  Let  me  go/  said  I ;  but  she 
cried  out,  'No,  no  !  come  ! 7 

"  There  were  many  rough  folks  without,  and  others 
called  together  by  the  noise  above,  and  no  wonder.  I 
said, '  Come  in ;  I  will  go  up  with  thee.'  She  pushed 
me  aside,  and,  with  staring  eyes,  cried,  '  Ou  est  I'es- 
calier-f  As  we  went  through  the  coffee-room,  the 
loungers  looked  at  her  with  surprise.  She  followed 
me  without  more  words,  ran  by  me  on  the  stairs,  and 
in  a  moment  beat  fiercely  on  the  door,  crying, l  Ouvrez! 
open!  quick  P  Then  there  was  that  madhouse  scene." 

And  this  was  how  it  came  about,  as  Jack  has  here 


114  HUGH  WYNNE 

told,  that,  still  hot  and  angry,  but  much  sobered,  I, 
her  son,  walked  beside  my  mother  till  we  came  to  our 
door,  and  Jack  left  us,  saying : 

"  Wilt  thou  see  me  to-morrow  ? n 

I  said,  "  Yes.  God  bless  thee !  Thou  art  the  real 
son,"  and  we  entered. 

Then  it  was  sweet  to  see  her ;  she  said  no  word  of 
reproach  except,  "  H  ne  faut  pas  me  donner  ton  baiser 
du  soir.  No,  no ;  I  am  not  to  be  kissed."  And  so  I 
went,  sorrowful  and  still  dizzy,  up  to  my  sleepless 
couch. 

At  the  first  gray  light  of  dawn  I  rose,  and  was  soon 
away  half  a  mile  from  shore  in  my  boat.  As  I  came 
up  from  my  first  plunge  in  the  friendly  river,  and 
brushed  the  water  from  my  eyes,  I  do  assure  you  the 
world  seemed  different.  The  water  was  very  cold, 
but  I  cared  nothing  for  that.  I  went  home  another 
and  a  better  man,  with  hope  and  trust  and  self -repose 
for  company.  That  hour  in  the  water  at  early  morn 
forever  after  seemed  to  me  a  mysterious  separation 
between  two  lives,  like  a  mighty  baptismal  change. 
Even  now  I  think  of  it  with  a  certain  awe. 

I  pulled  home  as  the  sun  rose,  and  lingered  about 
until  our  servants  came  in  for  the  early  worship  of 
the  day.  Soon  I  had  the  mother's  kiss,  and  under 
went  a  quick,  searching  look,  after  which  she  nodded 
gaily,  and  said,  "Est-ce  que  tout  est  Men,  monfils  ?  Is  all 
well  with  thee,  my  son  ?  n  I  said,  "  Yes— yes."  I  heard 
her  murmur  a  sweet  little  prayer  in  her  beloved  French 
tongue.  Then  she  began  to  read  a  chapter.  I  looked 
up  amazed.  It  was  the  prodigal's  story. 


HUGH  WYNNE  115 

I  stood  it  ill,  thinking  it  hard  that  she  should  have 
made  choice  of  that  reproachful  parable.  I  stared 
sideways  out  at  the  stream  and  the  ships,  but  lost  no 
word,  as,  with  a  voice  that  broke  now  and  then,  she 
read  the  parable  to  its  close.  After  this  should  have 
come  prayer,  silent  or  spoken ;  but,  to  my  surprise, 
she  said,  "  We  will  not  pray  this  morning,"  and  we 
went  in  to  breakfast  at  once. 

As  for  me,  I  could  not  eat.  I  went  out  alone  to 
the  garden  and  sat  down.  I  knew  she  would  come 
to  me  soon.  It  seemed  to  me  a  long  while.  I  sat  on 
the  grass  against  a  tree,  an  old  cherry,  as  I  remem 
ber,  and  waited. 

I  can  see  her  coming  toward  me  under  the  trees, 
grave  and  quiet  and  sweet.  The  great  beauty,  Sarah 
Lukens,  who  married  in  mid- war  the  gallant  Lennox, 
used  to  say  of  my  mother  that  she  put  some  sugar 
into  all  her  moods  j  and  it  was  true.  I  have  seen  her 
angry.  I  had  rather  have  faced  my  father  in  his 
wildest  rage  than  her.  Why  was  she  not  angry  now  ? 
She  had  vast  reason  for  displeasure.  After  men  have 
become  wise  enough  to  understand  woman,  I  protest 
there  will  remain  the  mother,  whom  no  man  will  ever 
comprehend. 

"  What  a  beautiful  day,  Hugh  !  And  you  had  a 
good  swim  ?  was  it  cold  ?  Why  may  not  girls  swim  ? 
I  should  love  it." 

Next  she  was  beside  me  on  the  grass,  my  head  on 
her  bosom,  saying,  with  a  little  sob,  as  if  she  had  done 
some  wrong  thing : 

"  I— I  did  not  choose  it,  dear  j  indeed  I  did  not.    It 


116  HUGH  WYNNE 

came  in  order  with  the  day,  as  your  father  reads ; 
and  I— I  did  not  think  until  I  began  it,  and  then  I 
would  not  stop.  It  is  strange  for  it  to  so  chance.  I 
wonder  where  that  prodigal's  mother  was  all  the 
while  ?  Oh,  you  are  better  than  that  wicked,  wicked 
prodigal.  I  never  would  have  let  him  go  at  all — 
never  if  I  could  have  helped  it,  I  mean.  Mon  Dieu  I 
I  think  we  women  were  made  only  for  prayer  or  for 
forgiveness ;  we  can  stop  no  sin;  and  when  it  is  done 
can  only  cry, '  Come  back !  come  back  !  I  love  you  ! ' " 

If  I  cried  on  that  tender  heart,  and  spoke  no  word, 
and  was  but  a  child  again,  I  am  sure  that  it  was  of 
all  ways  the  best  to  tell  her  that  never  again  should 
she  be  hurt  by  any  act  of  mine. 

"  See,  there  is  Judith  at  the  door,  wondering  where 
I  am,"  she  said,  "and  what  is  to  be  for  dinner.  I 
must  go  and  get  ready  the  fatted  calf.  Ah,  I  would 
not  have  left  one  alive.  Yes,  yes,  I  can  jest,  because 
I  am  no  more  afraid,  mon  fits,  nor  ever  shall  be." 

Upon  this  I  would  have  said  something  of  my 
deep  shame,  and  of  the  swine  among  whom  I  had 
wallowed. 

"No,"  she  cried;  "c'est  fini,  mon  cher.  It  is  all 
over.  The  swine  will  eat  alone  hereafter."  And 
so  would  hear  no  more,  only  adding,  "As  for  me, 
I  want  to  be  told  once  how  brave  I  was.  Jack  said 
so  ;  indeed  he  did.  I  was  brave,  was  I  not  ? " 

"  Don't,  dear  mother !  please !  I  cannot  bear  it." 
Somehow  this  plea,  so  childlike,  to  be  praised  for 
what  must  have  cost  so  much,  quite  overcame  me. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  said;  "I  understand  thee,  and  I 


HUGH  WYNNE  117 

shall  always.  How  strong  thou  art,  mon  fils  !  I  was 
proud  of  thee,  even  in  that  sty  of  pigs  in  red  coats. 
And  he  behaved  like  a  gentleman,  and  hath  wondrous 
self-command.  I  would  see  him  again ;  who  is  he  ? " 

I  told  her  his  name. 

"  Que  (test  drole.  That  is  curious.  Thy  cousin ! 
No  doubt  we  shall  see  him  to-day,  and  thy  father.  I 
shall  tell  him  all — all.  He  must  know." 

"  Yes,  he  must  know,"  I  said  ;  "  but  I  will  tell  him 
myself." 

"  He  will  be  angry,  but  that  is  part  of  thy  punish 
ment." 

Then  I  told  her,  too,  I  had  lost  an  hundred  pounds, 
as  I  believed,  and  she  said : 

"  That  is,  after  all,  the  least.  There  are  pearls  of 
my  sister's  I  never  wear.  Thy  aunt  must  take  them 
and  pay  this  debt.  Go  now  to  thy  business  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  and  I  will  send  thee  the  pearls 
by  Tom.  No,  no ;  it  is  to  be  as  I  say ;  I  must  have 
my  way." 

What  could  I  do  ?  I  kissed  her,  and  we  parted. 
I  made  no  promises,  and  she  asked  for  none.  I 
like  to  think  of  how,  after  all,  I  left  with  her  this 
sense  of  quiet  trust. 

I  have  said  that  the  daily  march  of  events  never 
so  influenced  my  life  as  did  critical  occasions.  This 
was  surely  one  of  them.  I  do  not  now  regret  the 
knowledge  of  a  baser  world  which  I  thus  acquired. 
It  has  been  of  use  to  me,  and  to  some  with  whose  lives 
I  have  had  to  deal. 

Of  the  wrath  of  my  father,  when  I  humbly  con- 


118  HUGH  WYNNE 

fessed  my  sins,  it  is  not  needful  to  speak  at  length. 
For  business  calamities  he  was  ready  enough,  and 
lacked  not  decision  •  but  in  this  matter  he  was,  as 
I  could  see,  puzzled.  He  strode  up  and  down,  a  great 
bulk  of  a  man,  opening  and  shutting  his  hands,  a 
trick  he  had  in  his  rare  moments  of  doubt  or  of 
intense  self-repression. 

"  I  know  not  what  to  do  with  thee,"  he  said  over 
and  over  j  "and  thou  didst  strike  the  man,  thy  cousin  ? 
Well,  well !  and  hurt  him,  I  am  told  ?  And  he  did 
not  return  the  blow  !  " 

I  had  not  said  so.  Thus  I  knew  that  other  busy 
tongues  had  been  at  work.  For  my  life,  I  could  not 
see  whether  he  looked  upon  the  blow  as  my  worst 
iniquity,  or  deep  in  his  heart  was  hardly  grieved  at  it. 

"  Thou  didst  strike  him  ?  I  must  consider  of  thee ; 
I  must  take  counsel.  Go  !  thou  wilt  bring  my  gray 
hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  grave."  And  so  I  left  him, 
still  striding  to  and  fro,  with  ever  the  same  odd 
movement  of  his  hands.  He  took  counsel,  indeed, 
and  for  me  and  for  him  the  most  unwise  that  ever 
a  troubled  man  could  have  taken.  It  was  some  days 
before  this  unpleasant  scene  took  place,  and  mean 
while  I  had  seen  my  aunt. 

She  was  taking  snuff  furiously  when  I  entered, 
and  broke  out  at  once,  very  red  in  the  face,  and 
walking  about  in  a  terrible  rage.  My  mother  used 
to  say  that  the  first  thing  one  saw  of  my  Aunt 
G-ainor  was  her  nose.  It  had  been  quite  too  much 
of  a  nose  for  the  rest  of  her  face,  until  gray  hair  and 
some  change  wrought  by  time  in  the  architecture  of 


HUGH  WYNNE  119 

her  fine  head  helped  to  make  it  more  in  harmony 
with  the  rest  of  her  features.  Somehow  it  arrested 
my  attention  now,  and  Heaven  knows  why  it  seemed 
to  me  more  odd  than  ever. 

"  This  is  a  fine  repentance  indeed  !  What  are  you 
staring  at,  you  fool  ?  Here  has  been  that  wild  curlew, 
Bess  Ferguson,  with  an  awful  tale  of  how  you  have 
gambled  and  lost  an  hundred  pounds,  and  half  killed 
an  unlucky  cousin.  Who  the  deuce  is  the  man  1  A 
nice  godchild  you  are  !  A  proper  rage  I  am  in,  and 
Dr.  Rush  tells  me  I  am  never  to  get  excited  !  You 
should  hear  Mrs.  Galloway  j  duels  and  murder  are  the 
least  of  her  talk ;  and,  upon  my  word,  you  know  no 
more  of  the  small  sword  than  of — I  know  not  what.  I 
must  send  you  to  Pike  for  lessons.  When  is  it  to  be  ? " 

"My  dear  aunt,"  I  cried,  "I  wish  all  these  Tory 
cats  of  yours  were  dead !  " 

At  this  she  broke  into  laughter,  and  sat  down. 

"  Cats  !  and  did  n't  they  miaow  !  That  sweet  girl- 
boy,  Jack  Warder,  has  been  here  too ;  sent,  I  suppose, 
by  that  dear  Jesuit,  your  mother.  How  he  blushes  ! 
I  hear  you  behaved  like  a  gentleman  even  in  your 
cups.  I  like  the  lad ;  I  did  not  use  to.  He  is  a  manly 
miss.  Sit  down,  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  Bless  me  ! 
how  hot  I  am  !  " 

Upon  this  I  knew  I  had  won  my  battle,  and  went 
on  to  tell  the  whole  story.  When  I  produced  my 
pearls,  of  which  I  was  horribly  ashamed,  she  broke 
out  anew,  declaring  we  were  all  mere  traders,  and 
did  we  think  her  a  pawnbroker  ?  and  ended  by  giving 
me  an  hundred  pounds,  and  bidding  me  to  be  care- 


120  HUGH  WYNNE 

ful  and  pay  at  once,  as  it  was  a  debt  of  honour.  "  As 
to  the  pearls,  let  Madam  Marie  keep  them  for  thy 
wife." 

Thus  ended  a  sorry  business.  It  was  to  be  told, 
and  I  have  told  it  j  but  none,  not  even  my  mother 
or  Jack,  knew  how  deep  a  mark  it  left  upon  my 
character,  or  how  profoundly  it  aifected  my  life. 

My  friend  Jack  shall  say  the  requiescat  of  this 
chapter  of  my  life,  which  I  have  so  unwillingly  re 
corded.  There  was  one  more  thing  needed  to  com 
plete  its  misery.  Says  Jack : 

"Hugh  Wynne  and  I  fell  apart  this  last  winter 
of  '72  and  ?73.  It  was  my  fault."  This  I  do  not 
understand.  "Came  then  that  hideous  night  in 
April,  and  all  the  rest  ;  and  Hugh  I  saw  the  day 
after,  and  begged  him  to  forgive  me  because  I  had 
so  easily  deserted  him.  I  took  him  later  a  kind 
message  from  Mr.  James  Wilson  5  for  our  small  city 
knew  it  all.  Friends  looked  at  him  as  one  disgraced, 
except  Friend  Rupert  Forest,  who,  to  my  amuse 
ment,  seemed  to  enjoy  to  hear  the  whole  story,  say 
ing,  <  Alas  !  alas  ! '  and  yet,  as  I  saw,  far  more  pleased 
than  distressed.  It  brought  to  my  mind  the  battle 
he  had  set  us  to  fight  out  when  we  were  boys.  For 
a  week  or  two  Hugh  was  dispirited,  but  after  that, 
when  the  colonel  had  called,  and  his  cousin,  Arthur 
Wynne,  began  to  be  more  and  more  with  him,  he 
took  heart,  and  faced  our  little  world,  and  would  let 
no  one,  except  myself,  say  a  word  to  him  of  the  time 
of  his  downfall ;  this  I  think  I  never  did,  save  per 
haps  once,  and  that  long  after. 


HUGH  WYNNE  121 

"  There  was  no  need  to  preach.  Converted  devils 
make  the  best  saints.  I  never  was  as  good  as  Hugh, 
because  I  lacked  courage  to  be  wicked.  Hugh  was 
no  saint,  but  he  drank  no  more  for  a  long  while,  and 
was  ever  after  moderate.  As  to  cards  and  dice,  it 
was  much  the  same." 

What  Jack  has  here  written  is  all  nonsense.  He 
was  a  better  man  than  I,  and  never  was  nor  could 
have  been  a  bad  one. 


IX 

HAVE  said  that  one  event  had  to  be  re 
corded  before  I  completed  the  stoiy  of 
that  episode-  of  which  I  was  weary  of 
hearing.  My  father — and  it  was  against 
all  his  habits  in  regard  to  most  matters 
—reminded  me  almost  daily  of  my  misdeeds.  He 
hoped  I  did  not  drink  any  more,  and  he  would  even 
look  at  the  square  flasks  on  the  shelf  to  see,  as  I 
suspected,  if  they  had  been  used.  To  be  prayed  for 
was  worst  of  all,  and  this  he  did  more  than  once. 
It  was  all  of  it  unwise,  and  but  for  my  mother  I 
should  have  been  even  more  unhappy.  I  can  see 
now  that  my  father  was  this  while  in  distress,  feeling 
that  he  must  do  something,  and  not  knowing  what 
to  do. 

In  his  business  life  there  had  always  been  a  way 
opened,  as  Friends  say.  He  did  not  see  that  what 
I  needed  was  what  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  give, 
and  thus  it  came  about  that  we  drew  apart,  and  per 
haps  neither  then  nor  at  any  later  time  were,  or  could 
ever  have  been,  in  the  kindlier  relation  which  makes 
the  best  of  friendships  that  of  the  grown-up  son  with 
the  elderly  father. 

At  last,  after  a  month  or  more,  when  it  was  far 
122 


HUGH  WYNNE  123 

on  in  June,  he  ceased  to  trouble  me,  and  to  walk  up 
and  down,  opening  and  shutting  his  hands,  as  he 
recounted  my  sins.  He  had  reached  an  unfortunate 
decision,  of  which  I  was  soon  to  feel  the  results. 

In  the  mean  time  my  cousin,  Mr.  Arthur  Wynne, 
had  come  into  very  close  intimacy  with  all  our  family 
circle.  As  he  had  much  to  do  with  my  later  life,  it 
is  well  to  return  a  little,  and  to  detail  here  what  fol 
lowed  after  the  night  of  my  mother's  visit  to  the 
coffee-house. 

Next  day,  in  the  evening,  came  the  colonel  of  the 
Scots  Grays,  and  desired  to  see  me  in  the  sitting, 
room,  my  father  being  still  in  Lancaster. 

"Mr.  Wynne,"  he  said,  "Captain  Wynne  has 
asked  me  to  call  in  reference  to  that  unhappy  busi 
ness  of  last  night.  He  begs  to  make  his  excuses 
to  Mrs.  Wynne  in  this  letter,  which  may  I  ask 
you  to  deliver?  And  after  this  action  on  his  part 
I  trust  you  will  see  your  way  to  regret  the  blow  you 
struck." 

I  was  quiet  for  a  moment,  feeling  that  I  must  be 
careful  what  answer  I  made.  "  I  cannot  feel  sorry," 
I  said ; . "  I  do  not  regret  it." 

"  That  is  a  pity,  Mr.  Wynne.  You  should  remem 
ber  that  Mr.  Arthur  Wynne  could  not  have  known 
who  the  lady  was.  A  blow  is  a  thing  no  gentle 
man  can,  as  a  rule,  submit  to ;  but  this  has  been  dis 
cussed  by  Sir  William  Draper  and  myself,  and  we 
feel  tha.t  Mr.  Arthur  Wynne  cannot  challenge  a  boy 
of  eighteen." 

"  I  am  twenty,"  I  replied. 


124  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  Pardon  me— of  twenty,  who  is  his  cousin.  That 
is  the  real  point  I  would  make.  You  have  the  best 
of  it.  You  were  right,  quite  right  j  but,  by  St.  George, 
you  are  a  hard  hitter!  Mr.  Wynne  would  have 
come  in  person,  but  he  is  hardly  fit  to  be  seen, 
and  a  sign-painter  is  just  now  busy  painting  his  eye 
lids  and  cheek,  so  as  to  enable  him  to  appear  out 
of  doors." 

The  colonel  treated  me  with  the  utmost  respect, 
and,  as  a  young  fellow  naturally  would  be,  I  was 
embarrassed  more  than  a  little,  but  not  at  all  dissat 
isfied  with  the  condition  of  my  cousin.  I  said  awk 
wardly  that  if  he  was  willing  to  forget  it  I  supposed 
I  ought  to  be. 

"I  think  so,"  said  the  colonel.  "Suppose  you 
leave  it  with  me,  and  in  a  day  or  two  talk  it  over 
with  him.  Indeed,  he  is  a  most  charming  gentleman, 
and  a  worthy  member  of  a  good  old  house." 

I  said  I  would  leave  it  with  the  colonel,  and  upon 
this  he  said,  "  Good-by,  and  come  and  dine  with  the 
mess  some  day,  but  don't  hit  any  more  of  us ;"  and 
so,  laughing,  he  went  away,  leaving  me  flattered,  but 
with  the  feeling  that  somehow  he  had  gotten  the  bet 
ter  of  me. 

My  mother  declared  it  was  a  beautiful  letter,  writ 
prettily,  but  ill-spelled  (neither  George  the  king  nor 
our  own  George  could  spell  well).  She  would  not 
let  me  see  it.  I  did  years  afterward.  In  it  he  spoke 
of  me  as  a  boy,  and  she  was  cunning  enough  to  know 
that  I  should  not  like  that, 

It  was  a  week  before  we  saw  Mr.  Arthur  Wynne. 


HUGH  WYNNE  125 

My  father  had  meanwhile  vented  his  first  wrath  on 
me,  and  I  was  slowly  getting  over  the  strong  sense  of 
disgust,  shame,  contrition,  and  anger,  and  had  set 
tled  down  earnestly  to  my  work.  I  hardly  recognised 
the  man  who  came  in  on  us  after  supper,  as  my 
mother  and  I  sat  in  the  orchard,  with  my  father  in  a 
better  humour  than  of  late,  and  smoking  a  churchwar 
den,  which,  you  may  like  to  know,  was  a  long  clay 
pipe.  The  smoke  sailed  peacefully  up,  as  I  sat  look 
ing  at  its  blue  smoke-rings.  How  often  since  have 
I  seen  them  float  from  the  black  lips  of  cannon,  and 
thought  of  my  father  and  his  pipe ! 

We  discussed  the  state  of  trade,  and  now  and  then 
I  read  aloud  bits  from  the  Boston  "Packet"  of  two 
weeks  back,  or  my  mother  spoke  of  their  September 
voyage,  and  of  what  would  be  needed  for  it,  a  voyage 
being  looked  upon  as  a  serious  affair  in  those  times. 

"I  found  your  doors  hospitably  open,"  said  the 
captain,  appearing,  "and  the  servant  said  I  should  find 
you  here ;  so  I  have  taken  my  welcome  for  granted, 
and  am  come  to  make  my  most  humble  excuses  to 
Mrs.  Wynne." 

We  all  rose  as  he  drew  near,  my  mother  saying 
in  my  ear  as  he  approached,  "It  is  Arthur  Wynne. 
Now,  Hugh,  take  care  !  " 

This  newly  found  cousin  was,  like  all  of  us,  tall, 
but  not  quite  so  broad  as  we  other  Wynnes.  He 
was  of  swarthy  complexion  from  long  service  in  the 
East,  and  had  black  hair,  not  fine,  but  rather  coarse. 
I  noticed  a  scar  on  his  forehead.  He  shook  hands, 
using  his  left  hand,  because,  as  I  learned,  of  awkward- 


126  HUGH  WYNNE 

ness  from  an  old  wound.  But  with  his  left  he  was 
an  expert  swordsman,  and,  like  left-handed  swords 
men,  the  more  dangerous. 

"We  are  glad  to  see  thee,  Cousin  Wynne/7  said 
my  mother. 

Seeing  the  marks  of  my  handiwork  still  on  his 
cheek,  I  took  his  greeting  with  decent  cordiality,  and 
said,  "  Sit  down ;  wilt  thou  smoke  a  pipe,  Cousin 
Arthur?" 

He  said  he  did  not  smoke,  and  set  himself,  with 
the  address  of  a  man  used  to  a  greater  world  than 
ours,  to  charm  those  whom  no  doubt  he  considered 
to  be  quite  simple  folk.  In  a  few  minutes  the  un 
pleasantness  of  the  situation  was  over.  He  and  my 
father  were  at  one  about  politics,  and  I  wisely  held 
my  peace.  He  let  fall  a  discreet  sentence  or  two 
about  the  habits  of  soldiers,  and  his  own  regrets, 
and  then  said,  laughing : 

"  Your  son  is  not  quite  of  your  views  as  a  Friend 
in  regard  to  warfare." 

"My  son  is  a  hasty  young  man,"  said  my  father, 
and  I  felt  my  mother's  touch  on  my  arm. 

Our  cousin  was  in  no  way  upset  by  this.  He  said, 
"No,  no,  cousin-;  he  is  young,  but  not  hasty.  I  was 
fitly  dealt  with.  We  are  hot-blooded  people,  we 
Wynnes.  The  ways  of  Friends  are  not  our  ways  of 
dealing  with  an  injury  5  and  it  was  more— I  wish  to 
say  so— it  was  an  insult.  He  was  right." 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  insult  in  the  matter," 
said  my  father.  "  We  may  insult  the  great  Master, 
but  it  is  not  for  man  to  resent  or  punish." 


HUGH  WYNNE  127 

"  I  fear  as  to  that  we  shall  continue  to  differ."  He 
spoke  with  the  utmost  deference.  "Do  you  go  to  Wyn- 
cote  ?  I  hear  you  are  for  England  in  the  autumn." 

"No;  I  shall  be  too  full  of  business.  Wyncote 
has  no  great  interest  for  me." 

"Indeed?  It  might  perhaps  disappoint  you— a 
tumble-down  old  house,  an  embarrassed  estate.  My 
brother  will  get  but  a  small  income  when  it  falls  to 
him.  My  father  fights  cocks  and  dogs,  rides  to 
hounds,  and,  I  grieve  to  say,  drinks  hard,  like  all  our 
Welsh  squires." 

I  was  surprised  at  his  frank  statement.  My  mother 
watched  him  curiously,  with  those  attentive  blue  eyes, 
as  my  father  returned : 

"  Of  a  certainty,  thou  dost  not  add  to  my  induce 
ments  to  visit  Wyncote.  I  should,  I  fear,  be  sadly 
out  of  place." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  is  but  too  true,  unless  your  head 
is  better  than  mine.  We  are  a  sad  set,  we  Wynnes. 
All  the  prosperity,  and  I  fear  much  of  the  decency 
of  the  family,  crossed  the  ocean  long  ago." 

"Yet  I  should  like  to  see  Wyncote,"  said  I.  "I 
think  thou  didst  tell  me  it  is  not  thy  home." 

"  No  ;  a  soldier  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  a  home ; 
and  a  younger  brother,  with  a  tough  father  alive, 
and  an  elder  brother  on  an  impoverished  estate,  must 
needs  be  a  wanderer." 

"  But  we  shall  make  thee  welcome  here,"  said  my 
father,  with  grave  kindness.  "  We  are  plain  people, 
and  live  simply ;  but  a  Wynne  should  always  find, 
as  we  used  to  say  here,  the  latch-string  outside." 


128  HUGH  WYNNE 

With  a  little  more  talk  of  the  Wynnes,  the  captain, 
declining  to  remain  longer,  rose,  and,  turning  to  me, 
said,  "  I  hear,  Cousin  Hugh,  that  you  refused  to  say 
that  you  were  sorry  for  the  sharp  lesson  you  gave  me 
the  other  night.  I  have  made  my  peace  with  your 
mother." 

"  I  shall  see  that  my  son  behaves  himself  in  future. 
Thou  hast  heard  thy  cousin,  Hugh  ? " 

I  had,  and  I  meant  to  make  it  up  with  him,  but  my 
father's  effort  as  a  peacemaker  did  not  render  my 
course  the  more  easy.  Still,  with  the  mother-eyes 
on  me,  I  kept  my  temper. 

"  I  was  about  to  say  thou  hast  done  all  a  man  can 
do,"  said  I. 

"  Then  let  us  shake  hands  honestly,"  he  replied, 
"and  let  bygones  be  bygones." 

I  saw  both  my  parents  glance  at  me.  "  I  should 
be  a  brute  if  I  did  not  say  yes,  and  mean  it,  too ;  but 
I  cannot  declare  that  I  am  sorry,  except  for  the  whole 
business."  And  with  this  I  took  his  left  hand,  a 
variety  of  the  commonplace  ceremony  which  always, 
to  my  last  knowledge  of  Captain  Wynne,  affected  me 
unpleasantly. 

He  laughed.  "  They  call  us  in  Merionethshire  the 
wilful  Wynnes.  You  will  find  me  a  good  friend  if 
you  don't  want  the  things  I  want.  I  am  like  most 
younger  brothers,  inclined  to  want  things.  I  thank 
you  all  for  a  pleasant  hour.  It  is  like  home,  or  better." 
With  this  he  bowed  low  to  my  mother's  curtsey,  and 
went  away,  chatting  as  I  conducted  him  to  the  door, 
and  promising  to  sail  with  me,  or  to  fish. 


HUGH  WYNNE  129 

Naturally  enough,  on  my  return  I  found  my  parents 
discussing  our  newly  found  relative.  My  mother 
thought  he  talked  much  of  himself,  and  had  been 
pleasanter  if  he  had  not  spoken  so  frankly  of  his 
father.  My  father  said  little,  except  that  there  seemed 
to  be  good  in  the  young  man. 

"  Why  should  we  not  forgive  that  in  him  which 
we  must  forgive  in  our  own  son  ? " 

My  father  had  some  dreadful  power  to  hurt  me, 
and  to  me  only  was  he  an  unjust  man  j  this  may 
have  been  because  my  wrong-doing  troubled  both 
his  paternal  and  his  spiritual  pride.  I  was  about 
to  say  that  there  was  little  likeness  between  my  sin 
and  that  of  my  cousin ;  but  I  saw  my  mother,  as  she 
stood  a  little  back  of  my  father's  great  bulk,  shake 
her  head,  and  I  held  my  tongue.  Not  so  she. 

"If  thou  hadst  been  a  woman  in  my  place,  John 
Wynne,  thou  wouldst  be  far  from  saying  the  thing 
thou  hast  said." 

Never  had  I  heard  or  seen  in  our  house  a  thing 
like  this.  I  saw,  in  the  fading  light,  my  father  work 
ing  his  hands  as  I  have  described,  a  signal  of  re 
strained  anger,  and,  like  anything  physically  unus 
ual  in  one  we  love,  not  quite  pleasant  to  see.  But 
my  mother,  who  knew  not  fear  of  him  nor  of  any, 
went  on,  despite  his  saying,  "  This  is  unseemly— un 
seemly,  wife." 

"  Thou  art  unjust,  John,  to  my  son." 

"Thy  son?" 

"Yes ;  mine  as  well  as  thine.  I  have  faith  that  thou, 
even  thou,  John,  wouldst  have  done  as  my  boy  did." 


130  HUGH   WYNNE 

"  I  ?  I  ? "  he  cried  j  and  now  I  saw  that  he  was  dis 
turbed,  for  he  was  moving  his  feet  like  some  proud, 
restrained  horse  pawing  the  grass.  At  last  he 
broke  the  stillness  which  followed  his  exclamations : 
"  There  is  but  one  answer,  wife.  Both  have  been 
brutes,  but  this  boy  has  been  kept  near  to  godly 
things  all  his  life.  Each  First-day  the  tongues  of 
righteous  men  have  taught  him  to  live  clean,  to  put 
away  wrath,  to  love  his  enemies;  and  in  a  day — a 
minute— it  is  gone,  and,  as  it  were,  useless,  and  I  the 
shame  of  the  town." 

I  hoped  this  was  all  5  but  my  mother  cried,  "  John  ! 
John !  It  is  thy  pride  that  is  hurt.  No,  it  is  not 
seemly  to  dispute  with  thee,  and  before  thy  son.  And 
yet— and  yet— even  that  is  better  than  to  let  him  go 
with  the  thought  that  he  is  altogether  like,  or  no  better 
than,  that  man.  If  thou  hast  a  duty  to  bear  testi 
mony,  so  have  I."  And  thus  the  mother  of  the  prod 
igal  son  had  her  say.  No  doubt  she  found  it  hard, 
and  I  saw  her  dash  the  tears  away  with  a  quick  hand, 
as  she  added,  "  If  I  have  hurt  thee,  John,  I  am  sorry." 

"  There  is  but  one  answer,  wife.  Love  thy  enemy  j 
do  good  to  them  that  despitefully  use  thee.  Thou 
wilt  ruin  thy  son  with  false  kindness,  and  who  shall 
save  him  from  the  pit  ? " 

I  turned  at  last  in  a  storm  of  indignation,  crying, 
"  Could  I  see  my  mother  treated  like  a  street- wench 
or  a  gutter-drab,  and  lift  no  hand?  I  wish  I  had 
killed  him ! " 

"  See,  wife,"  said  my  father.  "  Yes,  even  this  was 
to  be  borne." 


HUGH   WYNNE  131 

"  Not  by  me !  "  I  cried,  and  strode  into  the  house, 
wondering  if  ever  I  was  to  be  done  with  it. 

The  day  after  no  one  of  us  showed  a  sign  of  this 
outbreak.  Never  had  I  seen  the  like  of  it  among  us ; 
but  the  Quaker  habit  of  absolute  self -repression,  and 
of  concealment  of  emotion  again  prevailed,  so  that 
at  breakfast  we  met  as  usual,  and,  whatever  we  may 
have  felt,  there  was  no  outward  evidence  of  my 
mother's  just  anger,  of  my  father's  bitterness,  or  of 
my  own  disgust. 


WAS  not  yet  to  see  the  end  of  my  ini 
quity,  and  was  to  feel  the  consequences  in 
ways  which,  for  many  a  day,  influenced 
my  life  and  actions. 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  June.  The 
feeling  of  uneasiness  and  dread  was  becoming  more 
and  more  felt,  not  only  in  commerce,  which  is  so  sen 
sitive,  but  also  in  the  social  relations  of  men.  The 
king's  officers  were  more  saucy,  and,  like  all  soldiers, 
eager  for  active  service,  imagining  an  easy  victory 
over  a  people  untrained  in  war.  Such  Tory  pam 
phleteers  as  the  foul-tongued  Massachusetts  writer, 
Daniel  Leonard,  were  answering  "Vindex"  (Mr. 
Adams)  and  the  widely  read  letters  of  "  An  American 
Farmer."  The  plan  of  organised  correspondence 
between  the  colonies  began  to  be  felt  in  some  ap 
proach  to  unity  of  action,  for  at  this  time  the  out 
spoken  objection  to  the  views  of  the  king  and  his 
facile  minister  was  general,  and  even  men  like  G-al- 
loway,  Chew,  the  Aliens,  and  John  Penn  stood  with 
varying  degrees  of  good  will  among  those  who  were 
urging  resistance  to  oppression.  As  yet  the  too 
mighty  phantom  of  independence  had  not  appeared 
132 


HUGH  WYNNE  133 

on  the  horizon  of  our  stormy  politics,  to  scare  the 
timid,  and  to  consolidate  our  own  resistance. 

I  worked  hard  with  my  father  at  our  lessening 
and  complicated  business,  riding  far  into  the  country 
to  collect  debts,  often  with  Jack,  wTho  had  like  er 
rands  to  do,  and  with  whom  I  discussed  the  topics 
which  were  so  often,  and  not  always  too  amiably,  in 
question  at  my  Aunt  Gainer's  table.  I  was  just 
now  too  busy  to  be  much  with  my  old  favourites,  the 
officers.  Indeed,  I  was  wise  enough  to  keep  away 
from  them. 

My  cousin  I  saw  often,  both  at  my  aunt's,  as  I  shall 
relate,  and  elsewhere  ;  for  he  came  much  to  our  house, 
and  my  father  found  it  agreeable  to  talk  over  with 
him  the  news  of  the  day.  My  mother  did  not  like 
him  as  well,  but  she  held  her  peace,  and,  like  every 
other  man,  he  was  attracted  by  her  gaiety,  and  quaint 
way  of  looking  at  men  and  things. 

Mr.  Wilson  I  saw  at  times,  as  he  still  had,  I  know 
not  why,  a  fancy  for  me,  and  loved  well  to  sail  with 
me  of  evenings  over  to  Kaighn's  Point  to  fish,  or 
down  to  Gloucester  to  bob  for  crabs.  I  owed  him 
much.  A  profound  knowledge  of  law,  variety  of 
reading,  and  a  mind  which  left  broadly  on  our  after- 
history  the  marks  of  his  powerful  intellect,  were  at 
my  service.  He  used  to  caution  me  how  I  spoke  of 
his  opinions  to  others,  and  he  would  then  discuss  with 
freedom  politics  and  the  men  whose  figures  were  fast 
risin  g  into  distinctness  as  leaders  to  be  listened  to  and 
trufAed.  Many  of  them  he  knew,  and  thus  first  I  heard 
clearly  what  manner  of  persons  were  Patrick  Henry 


134  HUGH   WYNNE 

and  the  Adamses,  Dickinson,  Peyton  Randolph,  and 
others  less  prominent.  In  this  way  I  came  to  be  more 
and  more  confirmed  in  the  opinions  my  Aunt  Gainor 
so  resolutely  held,  and  also  more  careful  how  I  ex 
pressed  them.  Indeed,  although  but  twenty  years  of 
age,  I  was  become  quite  suddenly  an  older  and  graver 
man.  Mr.  Wilson  surprised  me  one  day  by  saying 
abruptly,  as  he  pulled  up  a  reluctant  crab,  "  Do  you 
never  think,  Hugh,  that  we  shall  have  war  ? " 

I  was  indeed  amazed,  and  said  so.  Then  he  added, 
"  It  will  come.  My  place  will  not  be  in  the  field, 
but,  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  you  will  see  battles. 
You  were  made  for  a  soldier,  Hugh,  Quaker  or  no 
Quaker." 

I  thought  it  odd  that  two  people  as  different  as  my 
Aunt  Gainor  and  he  should  have  the  same  belief 
that  we  were  drifting  into  war.  She  had  said  to  me 
the  night  before  that  she  had  known  Lord  North  as 
a  boy,  and  that  the  king  was  an  obstinate  Dutchman, 
and  would  make  his  minister  go  his  way,  adding, 
"  When  it  comes  you  will  be  in  it ;  you  can't  escape." 

No  one  else  whom  I  knew  had  any  such  belief. 
Wilson's  views  and  prediction  sent  me  home  thought 
ful  enough. 

That  evening  my  father  said  to  me,  "We  go  to 
Merion  the  day  after  to-morrow."  It  was  there  we 
spent  our  summers.  "To-morrow  will  be  Fourth- 
day.  It  is  our  last  day  of  Meeting  in  the  town.  There 
will,  perhaps,  be  some  wise  words  said  as  to  present 
confusions,  and  I  wish  thee  to  hear  them,  my  s<  n." 

I  said,  "  Yes ;  at  seven,  father  ? "     I  was,  however, 


HUGH   WYNNE  135 

astonished;  for  these  occasional  night  Meetings  in 
the  middle  of  the  week  were  but  rarely  attended  by 
the  younger  Friends,  and,  although  opened  with  such 
religious  observances  as  the  society  affected,  were 
chiefly  reserved  for  business  and  questions  of  disci 
pline.  I  had  not  the  least  desire  to  go,  but  there  was 
no  help  for  it. 

Our  supper  took  place  at  six  on  this  Wednesday, 
a  little  earlier  than  usual,  arid  I  observed  that  my 
father  drank  several  cups  of  tea,  which  was  not  his 
habit.  Few  people  took  tea  since  the  futile  tax 
had  been  set  upon  it;  but  my  father  continued  to 
drink  it,  and  would  have  no  concealment,  as  was  the 
custom  with  some  Whigs,  who  in  public  professed 
to  be  opposed  to  the  views  of  the  crown  as  to  the 
right  to  collect  indirect  taxes. 

Seeing  that  I  did  not  drink  it,  and  knowing  that 
I  liked  nothing  better  than  a  good  dish  of  tea,  he 
asked  me  why  I  did  not  partake  of  it.  Not  willing 
to  create  new  trouble,  I  said  I  did  not  want  any. 
He  urged  the  matter  no  further,  but  I  saw  he  was 
not  well  pleased.  We  set  off  soon  after  in  silence, 
he  walking  with  hands  behind  his  back  clasping  his 
gold-headed  cane,  his  collarless  coat  and  waistcoat 
below  his  beaver,  and  the  gray  hair  in  a  thick  mass 
between.  He  wore  shoes,  fine  drab  short-clothes, 
and  black  silk  stockings,  all  without  buckles ;  and 
he  moved  rapidly,  nodding  to  those  he  met  on  the 
way,  to  the  Bank  Hill  Meeting-house,  in  Front  street, 
above  Arch. 

It  was  a  simple,  one-story,  brick  building,  set  a 


136  HUGH  WYNNE 

few  feet  above  the  level  of  the  roadway.  The  gables 
and  shutters  were  painted  white,  as  was  also  the 
plain  Doric  doorway,  which  had  a  pillar  on  each 
side.  I  judged  by  the  number  of  both  sexes  enter 
ing  that  it  was  an  unusual  occasion.  There  were 
many  drab-coated  men,  and  there  were  elderly  women, 
in  gowns  of  drab  or  gray,  with  white  silk  shawls 
and  black  silk-covered  cardboard  bonnets.  Here  and 
there  a  man  or  woman  was  in  gayer  colours  or  wore 
buckles,  and  some  had  silver  buttons ;  but  these  were 
rare.  The  Meeting-room  was,  so  to  speak,  a  large 
oblong  box  with  whitewashed  walls.  A  broad 
passage  ran  from  the  door  to  the  farther  end;  on 
the  right  of  it  sat  the  men,  on  the  left  the  women ; 
against  the  remoter  wall,  facing  the  rude  benches, 
were  three  rows  of  seats,  one  above  the  other.  On 
these  sat  at  the  back  the  elders,  and  in  front  of 
them  the  overseers.  The  clerk  of  the  Meeting  had 
a  little  desk  provided  for  him.  Over  their  heads 
was  a  long  sounding-board. 

To  me  the  scene  had  been  familiar  for  years ;  but 
to-day  it  excited  my  attention  because  of  an  air  of 
expectation,  and  even  of  excitement,  among  the  few 
more  youthful  Friends.  I  saw,  as  we  entered,  furtive 
glances  cast  at  my  father  and  myself ;  but  as  to  this 
I  had  grown  to  be  of  late  more  or  less  indifferent,  and 
had  no  anticipation  of  what  was  to  follow  later. 

I  had  become,  since  my  sad  downfall,  a  more  serious 
and  thoughtful  young  man,  and  far  better  fitted  to 
feel  the  beauty  and  the  spirituality  of  these  Meetings 
than  I  had  been  before.  When  the  doors  were  closed 


HUGH  WYNNE  137 

I  sat  silent  in  prayer ;  for  some  ten  minutes  increas 
ing  stillness  came  upon  one  and  all  of  the  three  or 
four  hundred  people  here  met  together. 

As  I  waited,  with  long-trained  patience,  for  full 
twenty  minutes,  a  yet  deeper  quiet  fell  on  the 
figures  seated  on  each  side  of  the  aisle.  For  a 
time  none  of  the  men  uncovered,  but  soon  a  few 
took  off  their  broad  hats,  having  remained  with 
them  on  their  heads  long  enough  to  satisfy  cus 
tom  by  this  protest  against  the  ways  of  other  men. 
The  larger  number  kept  their  hats  on  their  heads. 
Then  a  strange  incident  took  place :  a  woman  of 
middle  age,  but  gray,  her  hair  fallen  about  her 
shoulders,  entered  noisily,  and,  standing  before  the 
elders,  cried  out  in  a  loud  voice,  as  though  in  afflic 
tion  and  sore  distress,  "See  to  your  standing;  the 
Lord  is  about  to  search  and  examine  your  camp. 
Ho !  ye  of  little  faith  and  less  works,  the  hand  of 
God  is  come  upon  you— the  mighty  hand  of  punish 
ment."  As  she  spake  thus  wildly  she  swayed  to  and 
fro,  and  seemed  to  me  disordered  in  mind.  Finally 
she  passed  across  the  space  in  front  of  the  overseers, 
to  the  women's  side,  and  then  back  again,  repeating 
her  mad  language.  My  Aunt  Gainor's  great  bronze 
Buddha  was  not  more  motionless  than  they  who  sat 
on  the  elders'  seats.  At  last  the  woman  faced  the 
Meeting,  and  went  down  the  aisle,  waving  her  hands, 
and  crying  out,  "  I  shall  have  peace,  peace,  in  thus 
having  discharged  my  Lord's  errand."  The  many 
there  met  did  justice  to  their  discipline.  Scarce  a 
face  showed  the  surprise  all  must  have  felt.  No  one 


138  HUGH  WYNNE 

turned  to  see  her  go  out,  or  seemed  to  hear  the  door 
banged  furiously  after  her.  The  covered  heads  re 
mained  silent  and  undisturbed;  the  rows  of  deep 
bonnets  were  almost  as  moveless.  Fully  ten  minutes 
of  perfect  silence  followed  this  singular  outburst. 
Then  I  saw  the  tall,  gaunt  figure  of  Nicholas  Wain 
rise  slowly,  a  faint  but  pleasant  smile  on  his  severe 
face,  while  he  looked  about  him  and  began : 

"  Whether  what  ye  have  heard  be  of  God  I  cannot 
say.  The  time  hath  troubled  many  souls.  The  woman, 
Sarah  Harris,  who  hath,  as  some  are  aware,  borne 
many  sweet  and  pleasing  testimonies  to  Friends  in 
Wilmington,  I  know  not.  Whether  what  ye  have 
heard  be  of  God  or  but  a  rash  way  of  speech,  let  us 
feel  that  it  is  a  warning  to  Friends  here  assembled 
that  we  be  careful  of  what  we  say  and  do.  It  hath 
been  borne  in  upon  me  that  Friends  do  not  fully 
understand  one  another,  and  that  some  are  moved 
to  wrath,  and  some  inclined  to  think  that  Friends 
should  depart  from  their  ways  and  question  that 
which  hath  been  done  by  the  rulers  God  hath  set"  over 
us.  Let  us  be  careful  that  our  General  Epistles  lean 
not  to  the  aiding  of  corrupt  and  wicked  men,  who  are 
leading  weak-minded  persons  into  paths  of  violence." 
And  here  he  sat  down. 

A  moment  later  got  up  Thomas  Scattergood,  grim 
and  dark  of  visage.  None  of  his  features  expressed 
the  slightest  emoticm,  although  even  from  the  begin 
ning  he  spoke  with  vehemence  and  his  body  rocked 
to  and  fro. 

"  The  days  are  darkening ;  the  times  are  evil.  Our 
master,  set  over  us  by  God,  has  seen  fit  to  tax  cer- 


HUGH   WYNNE  139 

tain  commodities,  that  means  may  be  raised  for  the 
just  government  of  these  colonies,  where  we  and  our 
fathers  have  prospered  in  our  worldly  goods,  under 
a  rule  that  has  left  us  free  to  worship  God  as  seems 
best  to  us.  And  now  we  are  bid  by  men,  not  of  our 
society,  ungodly  self-seekers,  sons  of  darkness,  to 
unite  with  them  in  the  way  of  resistance  to  the  law. 
There  have  even  been  found  here  among  us  those 
who  have  signed  agreements  to  disobey  such  as  are 
set  over  us,  unmindful  of  the  order  to  render  to  Caesar 
that  which  is  his.  Let  there  be  among  Friends  neither 
fear  nor  any  shortcoming.  Let  us  bear  testimony 
against  evil-doers,  whether  they  be  of  us  or  not.  Let 
us  cut  down  and  utterly  cast  forth  those  who  depart 
from  righteousness.  Are  they  not  of  the  scum  which 
riseth  on  the  boiling  pot  ?  There  is  a  time  for  Friends 
to  remonstrate,  and  a  time  to  act.  I  fear  lest  these 
too  gentle  counsels  of  Friend  Wain  be  out  of  time 
and  out  of  place.  Away  with  those  who,  hearing, 
heed  not.  Let  them  be  dealt  with  as  they  should  be, 
with  love  for  the  sinner,  but  with  thought  as  to  the 
evil  which  comes  of  unscourged  examples,  so  that 
when  again  we  are  met  in  the  Quarterly  Meeting  there 
shall  be  none  among  us  to  stir  up  discord,  and  we  can 
say  to  other  Meetings,  <  As  we  have  done,  so  do  ye. 
Make  clean  the  house  of  the  Lord.' " 

The  night  was  now  upon  us,  and  the  ringing  tones 
of  the  speaker  were  heard  through  the  darkness  be 
fore  he  sat  down.  While  all  waited,  two  Friends 
lit  the  candles  set  in  tin  sconces  against  the  pillars 
of  the  gallery,  and,  in  the  dim  light  they  gave,  the 
discussion  went  on. 


140  HUGH  WYNNE 

Then  I  saw  that  Arthur  Howell  was  about  to  speak. 
This  able  and  tender-minded  man  usually  sat  in 
Meeting  with  his  head  bent,  his  felt  hat  before  his 
eyes,  wrapped  in  thought,  and  lifted  above  all  con 
sideration  of  the  things  of  this  earth.  As  he  began, 
his  rich,  full  voice  filled  the  space,  and  something  in 
its  pleading  sweetness  appealed  to  every  heart.  He 
spoke  as  one  who,  having  no  doubt,  wondered  that 
any  one  else  should  doubt,  and  he  brought  the  dis 
cussion  to  a  decisive  point  at  once. 

"  It  is  well,"  he  said,  "  that  all  should  be  convinced 
by  those  who,  from  age  and  influence  among  Friends, 
have  the  best  right  of  speech.  Nevertheless,  since 
this  is  a  Meeting  for  discipline,  let  all  be  heard  with 
fairness  and  order.  Men  have  gone  astray.  They 
have  contended  for  the  asserting  of  civil  rights  in 
a  manner  contrary  to  our  peaceable  profession  and 
principles,  and,  although  repeatedly  admonished,  do 
not  manifest  any  disposition  to  make  the  Meeting  a 
proper  acknowledgment  of  their  outgoings.  There 
fore  it  is  that  we  bear  our  testimony  against  such 
practices,  and  can  have  no  unity  with  those  who  fol 
low  them  until  they  come  to  a  sense  of  their  errors. 
Therefore,  if  this  be  the  sense  of  our  Meeting,  let 
the  clerk  be  moved  to  manifest  the  feelings  of  the 
Meeting  to  these  members,  signing  on  our  behalf, 
for  the  matter  hath  already  been  before  us  twice, 
and  hath  been  deeply  and  prayerfully  considered  by 
ourselves ;  and  I  am  charged  to  tell  Friends  that  these 
members  who  have  thus  gone  astray  are  unwilling 
to  be  convinced  by  such  as  have  sought  to  bring  them 


HUGH  WYNNE  141 

to  a  better  mind.  This  hath  been  duly  reported,  and 
overseers  having  thus  failed,  it  doth  only  remain 
to  abide  by  the  sense  of  our  Meeting.  But  this  I 
have  already  said :  the  matter  hath  been  prayerfully 
considered." 

After  this,  others  spoke,  but  all  elder  Friends  un 
derstood  that  the  business  had  been  disposed  of,  and 
little  attention  was  given  to  those  who  rose  after 
Friend  Howell  sat  down.  Indeed,  that  they  were  ill- 
advised  to  speak  at  all  was  plainly  to  be  read  in  the 
countenances  of  many. 

This  was  my  first  experience  of  an  evening  Meet 
ing,  and,  even  to  one  acquainted  with  all  the  ways 
of  Friends,  the  scene  was  not  without  its  interest. 
The  night  was  now  dark  outside.  The  tallow  dips 
ran  down  and  flared  dismally.  A  man  with  snuffers 
went  to  and  fro,  and  the  pungent  odours  of  candles, 
burned  out  and  to  be  replaced,  filled  the  room. 

In  the  quiet  which  followed  Arthur  HowelPs  re 
fined  and  distinct  accents,  I  looked  at  the  row  of 
placid  faces  where  the  women  sat,  some  rosy,  some 
old,  all  in  the  monastic  cell  of  the  bonnet,  which  made 
it  as  impossible  to  see,  except  in  front,  as  it  is  for  a 
horse  with  blinders.  I  wondered  how  this  queer  head 
gear  came  to  have  been  made,  and  recalled  my  aunt's 
amusement  at  the  care  exercised  as  to  its  form  and 
material.  Few  there,  I  think,  let  their  thoughts 
wander,  and  in  front  of  me  the  row  of  drab  coats  and 
wide  felt  or  beaver  hats  remained  almost  motionless. 

At  last  James  Pemberton,  the  esteemed  clerk  of 
the  Meeting,  rose.  "I  am  moved,"  he  said,  "by  the 


142  HUGH   WYNNE 

Spirit  to  declare  that  the  sense,  and  also  the  weight, 
of  the  Meeting  is  that  Cyrus  Edson  and  William 
Jameson  be  advised,  in  accordance  with  the  instructed 
wish  of  Friends." 

He  then  sat  down.  There  was  no  vote  taken. 
Even  had  a  majority  of  those  present  been  hostile  to 
the  proposed  action,  it  is  improbable  that  any  protest 
would  have  been  made.  The  clerk's  statement  that 
the  weight  of  the  Meeting  was  affirmative,  would 
have  been  held  to  settle  the  matter,  as  it  appeared 
best  to  a  limited  number  of  those  recognised,  through 
their  piety  and  strict  living,  to  be  competent  to  decide 
for  the  rest. 

I  was  now  assured  that  this  was  all,  and  looked  to 
see  two  of  the  elders  shake  hands,  which  is  the  well- 
recognised  signal  for  the  Meeting  to  break  up ;  but 
as  the  elders  did  not  move,  the  rest  sat  still  and  waited. 
By  and  by  I  saw  Nicholas  Wain  extend  his  hand  to 
my  father,  who,  looking  steadily  before  him,  made 
no  sign  of  perceiving  this  intention  to  dismiss 
Friends.  A  still  longer  pause  followed.  As  I  learned 
afterward,  no  further  speaking  was  anticipated.  No 
one  stirred.  For  my  part,  I  was  quite  ready  to  go, 
and  impatiently  awaited  the  signal  of  dismissal.  A 
minute  or  two  passed  •  then  I  was  aware  of  a  short, 
neatly  built  man,  who  rose  from  a  bench  near  by. 
His  face  was  strong,  irregular  of  feature,  and  for 
some  reason  impressed  me.  I  could  see  even  in 
the  indistinct  light  that  he  flushed  deeply  as  he  got 
up  on  his  feet.  He  received  instant  attention,  for  he 
went  past  me,  and,  standing  in  the  passageway,  was 


HUGH   WYNNE  143 

quiet  for  a  moment.  He  was,  1  think,  not  over  thirty, 
and  seemed  embarrassed  at  the  instant  attention  he 
received.  For  a  few  minutes  he  appeared  to  seek 
his  words,  and  then,  quite  suddenly,  to  find  them  in 
eloquent  abundance. 

"  It  is  not  usual,"  he  said,  "  for  disowned  members 
of  the  society  to  openly  protest.  Neither  are  these 
our  brothers  here  to-day.  Nor,  were  they  with  us, 
are  they  so  skilled  with  the  tongue  as  to  be  able  to 
defend  themselves  against  the  strong  language  of 
Thomas  Scattergood  or  the  gentle  speech  of  Arthur 
Howell.  I  would  say  a  word  for  them,  and,  too,  for 
myself,  since  nothing  is  more  sure  than  that  I  think 
them  right,  and  know  that  ye  will,  before  long,  cast 
out  me,  to  whom  your  worship  is  sweet  and  lovely, 
and  the  ways  of  Friends  for  the  most  part  such  as 
seem  to  me  more  acceptable  than  those  of  any  other 
Christian  society.  Whether  it  be  that  old  memories 
of  persecution,  or  too  great  prosperity,  have  hardened 
you,  I  do  not  know.  It  does  seem  to  me  that  ye  have 
put  on  a  severity  of  dress  and  life  that  was  not  so 
once,  and  that  undue  strictness  hath  destroyed  for  us 
some  of  the  innocent  joys  of  this  world.  I  also  find 
unwholesome  and  burdensome  that  inner  garment 
of  self-righteousness  in  which  ye  clothe  yourselves 
to  judge  the  motives  of  your  fellow-men. 

"  So  far  as  the  law  went  against  such  views  as  you 
entertained,  none  did  more  resist  them,  in  your  own 
way,  than  did  you ;  but  now  the  English  across  the 
seas  tell  us  that  the  liberty  our  fathers  sought  on 
these  shores  is  to  be  that  which  pleases  a  corrupt  and 


144  HUGH  WYNNE 

pliant  ministry,  and  not  that  which  is  common  to 
men  of  English  blood.  Some  brave  men  of  our  so 
ciety  say,  '  Let  us  make  a  stand  here,  lest  worse  things 
come.  Let  us  refuse  to  eat,  drink,  or  wear  the  ar 
ticles  they  assume  to  tax,  whether  we  will  or  not.' 
There  is  no  violence.  Believe  me,  there  will  be  none 
if  we  are  one  throughout  the  colonies.  But  if  not— 
if  not — if  grave  old  men  like  you,  afraid  of  this  mere 
shadow  of  passive  resistance,  dreading  to  see  trade 
decay  and  the  fat  flanks  of  prosperity  grow  lean— 
if  you  are  wholly  with  our  oppressors,  passively  with 
them,  or,  as  some  believe,  actively,  then— then,  dear 
friends,  it  will  be  not  the  shadow,  but  the  substance, 
of  resistance  that  will  fall  in  blood  and  ruin  on  you 
and  on  all  men— on  your  easy  lives  and  your  ac 
cumulated  gains. 

"  Aye,  look  to  it !  There  is  blood  on  the  garments 
of  many  a  man  who  sits  fearfully  at  home,  and  thinks 
that  because  he  does  nothing  he  will  be  free  of  guilt 
when  the  great  account  is  called.77 

On  this  a  rare  exception  to  the  tranquillity  of  Meet 
ing  occurred.  Daniel  Offley,  by  trade  a  farrier,  rose 
and  broke  in,  speaking  loudly,  as  one  used  to  lift  his 
voice  amid  the  din  of  hammers  :  "  Wherefore  should 
this  youth  bring  among  us  the  godless  things  of 
worldly  men  ? "  His  sonorous  tones  rang  out  through 
the  partial  obscurity,  and  shook,  as  I  noticed,  the 
scattered  spires  of  the  candle  flames.  "  This  is  no 
time  for  foolish  men  to  be  heard,  where  the  elders 
are  of  a  mind.  The  sense  of  the  Meeting  is  with  us. 
The  weight  of  the  Meeting  is  with  us.  The  king  is 


HUGH  WYNNE  145 

a  good  king,  and  who  are  we  to  resist?  Out  with 
those  who  are  not  of  our  ways !  Let  the  hammer 
fall  on  the  unrighteous,  lest  the  sheep  be  scattered, 
and  the  Shepherd  leave  them.'7 

At  this  queer  mixture  of  metaphors  I  saw  the  pre 
vious  speaker  smile,  as  he  stood  in  the  aisle.  Next 
I  heard  the  gentle  voice  of  James  Pemberton  break 
in  on  the  uncouth  speech  of  the  big  farrier. 

"  It  is  the  custom  of  Friends  that  all  men  who  feel 
to  be  moved  to  tell  us  aught  shall  be  heard.  Friend 
Wetherill,  we  will  hear  thee  to  an  end."  He  spoke 
with  the  courteous  ease  of  a  well-bred  gentleman,  and 
the  smith  sat  down. 

Friend  Wetherill  paused  a  moment,  looking  to  left 
and  right  along  the  lines  of  deeply  interested  and 
motionless  faces.  Then  he  continued :  "  On  what  you 
and  others  do  in  these  days  depends  what  shall  come 
upon  us.  Let  no  man  deceive  you,  not  even  the  timid 
counsel  of  gray  hairs  or  the  wariness  of  wealth.  The 
guinea  fears ;  the  penny  fights ;  and  the  poor  penny 
is  to-day  deeply  concerned.  You  take  shelter  under 
the  law  of  Christ,  to  live,  as  far  as  possible,  at  peace 
with  all  men.  As  far  as  possible  f  It  should  at  times 
be  felt  that  Paul's  limitation  is  also  a  command. 
Do  not  resist  him  who  would  slay  a  child  or  wrong 
a  woman— that  is  how  you  read  the  law  of  God. 

"  It  is  extremes  which  bring  ruin  to  the  best  Chris 
tian  societies,  and  if  the  mass  of  men  were  with  you 
civil  order  would  cease,  and  the  carefully  builded 
structure  of  civilisation  would  perish.  You  are  al 
ready  undergoing  a  process  of  dry  decay,  and  as  you 
10 


14G  HUGH  WYNNE 

dry  and  dry,  you  harden  and  shrink,  and  see  it  not. 
A  wild  woman  has  told  you  to  set  your  camp  in  order. 
See  to  it,  my  friends ;  see  to  it !  " 

For  not  less  than  a  minute  the  speaker  remained 
silent,  with  bended  head,  still  keeping  the  won 
derfully  steady  attention  of  this  staid  assembly. 
Very  slowly  he  lifted  his  face,  and  now,  as  he  began 
again,  it  was  with  a  look  of  tender  sweetness :  "It 
was  far  back  in  Second-month,  1771,  I  began  to  be 
encompassed  by  doubts  as  to  the  course  Friends  were 
taking.  To-day  I  am  assured  in  spirit  that  you  are 
wrong  in  the  support  you  gave,  and,  let  me  say,  are 
giving,  to  an  unjust  cause.  I  think  I  take  an  inno 
cent  liberty  to  express  myself  on  this  occasion,  also 
according  to  the  prospect  I  have  of  the  matter. 
There  is  something  due  to  the  king,  and  something 
to  the  cause  of  the  public.  When  kings  deviate  from 
the  righteous  law  of  justice  in  which  kings  ought  to 
rule,  it  is  the  right,  aye,  and  the  religious  duty,  of  the 
people  to  be  plain  and  honest  in  letting  them  know 
where.  I  am  not  a  person  of  such  consequence  as 
to  dictate ;  but  there  is  in  me  and  in  you  a  court,  to 
which  I  confidently  appeal.  I  have  appealed  to  it  in 
prayer,  as  to  what  my  course  shall  be.  I  obey  my 
conscience.  Take  heed  that  you  do  not  act  rashly." 

Here  again,  after  these  calm  words,  he  paused,  and 
then  said,  with  emphatic  sternness,  "As  my  last 
words,  let  me  leave  with  you  the  admonition  of  the 
great  founder  of  this  colony.  'I  beseech  you/  he 
says,  'for  the  sake  of  Christ,  who  so  sharply  pro 
hibited  making  others  suffer  for  their  religion,  that 


HUGH   WYNNE  147 

you  have  a  care  how  you  exercise  power  over  other 
men's  consciences.  My  friends,  conscience  is  God's 
throne  in  man,  and  the  power  of  it  His  prerogative  ! ' 
These  are  solemn  words.  Whether  you  leave  me  to 
live  among  you,  free  to  do  what  seems  right  to  me, 
or  drive  me  forth,  who  have  no  wish  to  go,  now  and 
always  I  shall  love  you.  That  love  you  cannot  take 
away,  nor  weaken,  nor  disturb." 

I  was  sorry  when  the  melody  of  this  clear  voice 
ceased.  The  speaker,  wiping  the  moisture  from  his 
brow,  stood  still,  and,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands, 
was  lost  in  the  prayer  which  I  doubt  not  followed. 

A  long  interval  of  absence  of  all  sound  came  after 
he  ceased  to  speak.  No  one  replied.  The  matter  was 
closed,  a  decision  reached,  and  the  clerk  instructed. 
I  knew  enough  to  feel  sure  that  those  manly  tones 
of  appeal  and  remonstrance  had  failed  of  their 
purpose. 

At  this  moment  I  saw  an  elderly  man  on  the  seat 
before  me  rise,  and  with  deliberateness  kneel  in 
prayer  j  or,  as  Friends  say,  Israel  Sharpless  appeared 
in  supplication.  At  first,  as  he  began  to  be  heard, 
Friends  rose  here  and  there,  until  all  were  afoot  and 
all  uncovered.  The  silence  and  reverent  bended  heads, 
and  the  dim  light,  affected  me  as  never  before.  Many 
turned  their  backs  on  the  praying  man,  an  odd  cus 
tom,  but  common.  As  he  prayed  his  voice  rose  until 
it  filled  the  great  room ;  and  of  a  sudden  I  started, 
and  broke  out  in  a  cold  sweat,  for  this  was  what  I 
heard : 

"  O  Lord,  arise,  and  let  Thine  enemies  be  scattered 


148  HUGH  WYNNE 

Dip  me  deeper  in  Jordan.  Wash  me  in  the  laver  of 
regeneration.  Give  me  courage  to  wrestle  with  ill- 
doers.  Let  my  applications  be  heard. 

"Father  of  mercy,  remember  of  Thy  pity  those  of 
the  young  among  us  who,  being  fallen  into  evil  ways, 
are  gone  astray.  We  pray  that  they  who  have  gam 
bled  and  drunk  and  brought  to  shame  and  sorrow 
their  elders  may  be  recovered  into  a  better  mind, 
and  sin  no  more.  We  pray  Thee,  Almighty  Father, 
that  they  be  led  to  consider  and  to  repent  of  deeds 
of  violence,  that  those  among  us  whom  the  confusion 
of  the  times  has  set  against  the  law  and  authority  of 
rulers  be  better  counselled ;  or,  if  not,  strengthen  us 
so  to  deal  with  these  young  men  as  shall  make  pure 
again  Thy  sheepfold,  that  they  be  no  longer  a  means 
of  leading  others  into  wickedness  and  debauchery." 
I  heard  no  more.  This  man  was  a  close  friend  of  my 
father.  I  knew  but  too  well  that  it  was  I  who  was 
thus  reproved,  and  thus  put  to  shame.  I  looked  this 
way  and  that,  the  hot  blood  in  my  face,  thinking  to 
escape.  Custom  held  me.  I  caught,  as  I  stared, 
furtive  glances  from  some  of  the  younger  folk.  Here 
and  there  some  sweet,  gentle  face  considered  me  a 
moment  with  pity,  or  with  a  curiosity  too  strong  for 
even  the  grim  discipline  of  Friends.  I  stood  erect. 
The  prayer  went  on.  Now  and  then  I  caught  a  phrase, 
but  the  most  part  of  what  he  said  was  lost  to  me.  I 
looked  about  me  at  times  with  the  anguish  of  a 
trapped  animal. 

At  last  I  saw  that  my  gentle- voiced  speaker,  Weth- 
erill,  was,  like  myself,  rigid,  with  upheld  head,  and 


HUGH  WYNNE  149 

that,  with  a  faint  smile  on  his  face,  he  was  looking 
toward  me.  Minute  after  minute  passed.  Would 
they  never  be  done  with  it  ?  I  began  to  wonder  what 
was  going  on  under  those  bent  gray  hats  and  black 
bonnets.  I  was  far  away  from  penitence  or  remorse,  a 
bruised  and  tormented  man,  helpless,  if  ever  a  man  was 
helpless,  under  the  monotonous  and  silent  reproach  of 
some  hundreds  of  people  who  had  condemned  me  un 
heard.  It  did  seem  as  if  it  never  would  end. 

At  last  the  voice  died  out.  The  man  rose,  and  put 
on  his  hat.  All  resumed  their  seats  and  their  head- 
coverings.  I  saw  that  Friend  Scattergood  extended  a 
hand  to  my  father,  who  was,  as  I  have  not  yet  stated, 
an  elder.  The  grasp  was  accepted.  Elders  and  over 
seers,  both  men  and  women,  rose,  and  we  also.  I 
pushed  my  way  out,  rudely,  I  fear.  At  the  door 
James  Pemberton  put  out  his  hand.  I  looked  him 
full  in  the  face,  and  turned  away  from  the  too  inquis 
itive  looks  of  the  younger  Friends.  I  went  by  my 
father  without  a  word.  He  could  not  have  known 
what  pain  his  method  of  saving  my  soul  would  cost 
me.  That  he  had  been  in  some  way  active  in  the 
matter  I  did  not  doubt,  and  I  knew  later  that  my 
opinion  was  but  too  correct. 

Hastening  down  Front  street  with  an  overwhelm 
ing  desire  to  be  alone,  I  paused  at  our  own  door,  and 
then,  late  as  it  was,  now  close  to  ten,  I  unmoored  my 
boat,  and  was  about  to  push  off  when  I  felt  a  hand 
on  my  shoulder.  It  was  Samuel  Wetherill. 

"Let  me  go  with  thee,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "We 
should  talk  a  little,  thou  and  I." 


150  HUGH  WYNNE 

I  said,  "  Yes.  Thou  art  the  only  man  I  want  to 
see  to-night." 

There  were  no  more  words.  The  moon  was  up  as  I 
pulled  down  Dock  Creek  and  out  on  my  friendly  river. 

"  Let  thy  boat  drift,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  thou  art 
aware,  Hugh  Wynne,  how  grieved  I  was ;  for  I  know 
all  that  went  before.  I  somehow  think  that  thou 
hast  already  done  for  thyself  what  these  good  folk 
seemed  to  think  was  needed.  Am  I  right  ? " 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"  Then  say  no  more.  James  Wilson  has  spoken 
of  thee  often.  To  be  loved  of  such  a  man  is  much. 
I  hear  that  thou  hast  been  led  to  think  with  us,  and 
that,  despite  those  wicked  wild  oats,  thou  art  a  young 
man  of  parts  and  good  feelings,  thoughtful  beyond 
thy  years." 

I  thanked  him  almost  in  tears;  for  this  kindly 
judgment  was,  past  belief,  the  best  remedy  I  could 
have  had. 

"I  saw  thy  great  suffering;  but  in  a  year,  in  a 
month,  this  will  seem  a  thing  of  no  import;  only, 
when  thou  art  calm  and  canst  think,  hold  a  Meeting 
in  thy  own  heart,  and  ask  thy  quiet  judgment,  thy 
conscience,  thy  memory,  if  prayer  be  needed ;  and  do 
it  for  thyself,  Hugh." 

I  said,  "  Thank  thee,"  but  no  more.  I  have  ever 
been  averse  to  talking  of  my  relations  to  another 
world,-  or  of  what  I  believe,  or  of  what  I  am  led 
thereby  to  do  in  hours  of  self-communion.  I  sat 
wishing  my  father  were  like  this,  a  tender-hearted 
yet  resolute  man. 


HUGH   WYNNE  151 

Seeing  me  indisposed  to  speak,  he  went  on  :  "  If  we 
could  but  keep  the  better  part  of  Friends'  creed,  and 
be  set  free  to  live  at  peace  with  the  law,  to  realise 
that  to  sit  down  quietly  under  oppression  may  be  to 
serve  the  devil,  and  not  God !  Thou  knowest,  as  well 
as  I,  that  divers  Friends  have  publicly  avowed  the 
ministry,  and  allege  that  whatever  they  may  do  is  a 
just  punishment  of  rebellion.  We  are  going  to  have 
a  serious  settlement,  and  it  will  become  us  all,  Hugh, 
young  and  old,  to  see  that  we  are  on  the  right  side, 
even  if  we  have  to  draw  the  sword.  And  thou  and 
I  shall  not  be  alone  of  Friends.  There  are  Clement 
and  Owen  Biddle,  and  Christopher  Marshall,  and 
more." 

I  was  surprised,  and  said  so. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  talk  to  thee  as  to  a 
man,  and  these  things  are  not  to  be  spread  abroad. 
I  trust  I  have  been  to  thee  a  comfort  ;  and,  now  the 
moon  is  setting,  let  us  go  home." 

I  thanked  him  as  well  as  I  knew  how.  He  had 
indeed  consoled  me. 

When  I  came  in  my  father  had  gone  to  bed,  but 
my  mother  was  waiting  to  see  me.  She  caught  me 
in  her  arms,  and,  weeping  like  a  child,  cried,  "  Oh,  I 
have  heard !  He  did  not  tell  me  beforehand,  or  I 
should  have  forbade  it.  Thou  shouldst  never  have 
gone  !  never !  It  was  cruel !  Mon  Dieu  !  how  could 
they  do  it !  " 

It  was  I  who  now  had  to  comfort,  and  this  helped 
me  amazingly,  and  yet  added  to  my  just  anger; 
for  why  must  she,  who  was  innocent,  be  thus  made 


152  HUGH  WYNNE 

to  suffer  ?  My  father,  when  he  came  in,  had  asked 
for  me.  He  had  met  my  cousin,  who  had  seen  me 
going  down  Front  street,  and  had  hinted  that  I  meant 
to  find  comfort  at  the  coffee-house  among  the  officers. 
She  knew  better,  and  had  said  her  mind  of  this  kins 
man  and  his  ways  j  upon  which  my  father  had  gone 
angry  to  his  bed.  I  was  beginning  to  have  an  in 
creasing  distrust  and  dislike  of  Arthur,  and  the 
present  news  did  not  lessen  either  feeling.  So  at 
last  here  was  an  end  of  the  consequences  of  my  sad 
night  at  the  coffee-house. 


OF    TFT F. 

UNIVERSI 


XI 


[HE  next  day  we  went  to  our  farm  in 
Merion.  My  father  said  no  word  of  the 
Meeting,  nor  did  I.  The  summer  of  773 
went  on.  I  rode  in  to  my  work  daily, 
sometimes  with  my  father,  who  talked 
almost  altogether  of  his  cattle  or  of  his  ventures, 
never  of  the  lowering  political  horizon.  He  had  ex 
cused  himself  from  being  a  consignee  of  the  tea,  on 
the  score  of  his  voyage,  which  was  now  intended  for 
September. 

My  aunt  lived  in  summer  on  the  farther  slope  of 
Chestnut  Hill,  where,  when  the  road  was  in  order, 
came  her  friends  for  a  night,  and  the  usual  card-play. 
When  of  a  Saturday  I  was  set  free,  I  delighted  to 
ride  over  and  spend  Sunday  with  her,  my  way  being 
across  country  to  one  of  the  fords  on  the  Schuylkill, 
or  out  from  town  by  the  Ridge  or  the  Germantown 
highroad.  The  ride  was  long,  but,  with  my  saddle 
bags  and  Lucy,  a  new  mare  my  aunt  had  raised  and 
given  me,  and  clad  in  overalls,  which  we  called  tongs, 
I  cared  little  for  the  mud,  and  often  enough  stopped 
to  assist  a  chaise  out  of  the  deep  holes,  which  made 
the  roads  dangerous  for  vehicles. 
Late  one  day  in  August,  I  set  out  with  my  friend 

153 


154  HUGH  WYNNE 

Jack  to  spend  a  Sunday  with  my  Aunt  Gainor. 
Jack  Warder  was  now  a  prime  favourite,  and  highly 
approved.  We  rode  up  Front  street,  and  crossed  the 
bridge  where  Mulberry  street  passed  under  it,  and  is 
therefore  to  this  day  called  Arch  street,  although  few 
know  why.  The  gay  coats  of  officers  were  plentiful, 
farmers  in  their  smocks  were  driving  in  with  their 
vegetables,  and  to  the  right  was  the  river,  with  here 
and  there  a  ship,  and,  beyond,  the  windmill  on  the 
island.  We  talked  of  the  times,  of  books,  of  my  father's 
voyage,  and  of  my  future  stay  with  my  aunt. 

Although  Jack's  father  was  a  Quaker,  he  was  too 
discreet  a  business  man  not  to  approve  of  Jack's 
visits  to  my  aunt,  and  too  worldly  not  to  wish  for 
his  son  a  society  to  which  he  was  not  born ;  so  Mrs. 
Ferguson  and  Mrs.  Galloway  made  much  of  Jack, 
and  he  was  welcome,  like  myself,  at  Cliveden,  where 
the  Chews  had  their  summer  home. 

The  Tory  ladies  laughed  at  his  way  of  blushing 
like  a  girl,  and,  to  Jack's  dismay,  openly  envied  his 
pink-and-white  skin  and  fair  locks.  They  treated 
him  as  if  he  were  younger  than  I,  although,  as  it 
chanced,  we  were  born  on  the  same  day  of  the  same 
year;  and  yet  he  liked  it  all— the  gay  women,  the 
coquettish  Tory  maids,  even  the  "genteel"  Quaker 
dames,  such  as  Mrs.  Sarah  Logan  or  Mrs.  Morris, 
and  the  pretty  girls  of  the  other  side,  like  Sarah 
Lukens  and  the  Misses  Willing,  with  their  family 
gift  of  beauty.  These  and  more  came  and  went  at  my 
aunt's,  with  men  of  all  parties,  and  the  grave  Drs.  Rush 
and  Parke,  and  a  changing  group  of  English  officers. 


HUGH  WYNNE  155 

In  the  little  old  house  at  Belmont,  the  Rev.  Richard 
Peters  was  glad  to  sit  at  cards  with  the  Tory  ladies, 
whose  cause  was  not  his,  and  still  less  that  of  Richard, 
his  nephew.  At  times,  as  was  the  custom,  sleigh 
ing  parties  in  winter  or  riding-parties  in  summer 
used  to  meet  at  Cliveden  or  Springetsbury,  or  at  a 
farm-house  where  John  Penn  dwelt  while  engaged 
in  building  the  great  house  of  Lansdowne,  looking 
over  trees  to  the  quiet  Schuylkill. 

We  rode  out  gaily  this  August  afternoon,  along 
the  Germantown  road,  admiring  the  fine  farms,  and 
the  forests  still  left  among  the  cultivated  lands. 
Near  Fisher's  Lane  we  saw  some  two  or  three  peo 
ple  in  the  road,  and,  drawing  near,  dismounted. 
A  black  man,  who  lay  on  the  ground,  groaning  with 
a  cut  head,  and  just  coming  to  himself,  I  saw  to  be 
my  aunt's  coachman  Caesar.  Beside  him,  held  by  a 
farmer,  was  a  horse  with  a  pillion  and  saddle,  all 
muddy  enough  from  a  fall.  Near  by  stood  a  slight 
young  woman  in  a  saveguard  petticoat  and  a  sad- 
coloured,  short  camlet  cloak. 

"  It  is  Miss  Darthea  Peniston,"  said  Jack. 

"  Miss  Peniston,"  I  said,  dismounting,  "  what  has 
happened  f " 

She  told  me  quietly,  that,  riding  pillion  to  stay 
with  my  aunt,  the  horse  had  fallen  and  hurt  Caesar, 
not  badly,  she  thought.  She  had  alighted  on  her 
feet,  but  what  should  she  do?  After  some  dis 
cussion,  and  the  black  being  better,  we  settled  to 
leave  him,  and  I  proposed  that  Jack,  the  lighter 
weight,  should  ride  my  Aunt  Gainor's  horse,  with 


156  HUGH  WYNNE 

Miss  Peniston  on  the  pillion  behind  him.  Upon  this 
Jack  got  red,  at  the  idea,  I  suppose,  of  Miss  Darthea's 
contemplating  the  back  of  his  head  for  four  miles. 
The  young  woman  looked  on  with  shy  amusement. 

At  this  moment  Caesar,  a  much  pampered  person, 
who  alone  of  all  her  house  dared  give  my  aunt  ad 
vice,  declared  he  must  have  a  doctor.  Jack,  much 
relieved,  said  it  was  inhuman  to  leave  him  in  this 
case,  and  put  an  end  to  our  discussion  by  riding 
away  to  fetch  old  Dr.  de  Benneville. 

Miss  Darthea  laughed,  said  it  was  a  sad  thing  a 
woman  should  have  no  choice,  and  pretended  to  be 
in  misery  as  to  my  unfortunate  lot.  I  said  nothing, 
but,  after  looking  Cesar's  horse  over,  I  gave  my  sad 
dle  to  be  kept  at  the  farmer's,  and  put  the  coachman's 
saddle  on  my  mare  Lucy,  with  the  pillion  behind 
made  fast  to  the  saddle-straps  arranged  for  this  use. 
Then  I  looked  well  to  the  girths,  and  mounted  to  see 
how  Lucy  would  like  it.  She  liked  it  not  at  all,  and 
was  presently  all  over  the  road  and  up  against  the 
fence  of  the  old  graveyard  I  was  to  see  again  in  other 
and  wilder  days. 

I  saw  the  little  lady  in  the  road  watching  me  with 
a  smiling  face,  by  no  means  ill  pleased  with  the  spec 
tacle.  At  last  I  cried,  "  Wait !  "  and  putting  Miss  Lucy 
down  the  road  for  a  mile  at  a  run,  soon  brought  her 
back  quite  submissive. 

"Art  thou  afraid?"  I  said. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  be  asked  if  I  am  afraid.  I  am 
very  much  afraid,  but  I  would  die  rather  than  not  get 
on  your  mare."  So  a  chair  was  fetched,  Miss  Penis- 


HUGH  WYNNE  157 

ton  put  on  her  linen  riding-mask,  and  in  a  moment 
was  seated  behind  me.  For  ten  minutes  I  was  fully 
taken  up  with  the  feminine  creature  under  me.  At 
last  I  said : 

"Put  an  arm  around  my  waist.  I  must  let  her 
go.  At  once  !  "  I  added ;  for  the  mare  was  getting  to 
rear  a  little,  and  the  young  woman  hesitated.  "  Do 
as  I  tell  thee  !  "  I  cried  sharply,  and  when  I  felt  her 
right  arm  about  me,  I  said,  "  Hold,  fast !  "  and  gave 
the  mare  her  head.  A  mile  sufficed,  with  the  double 
burden,  so  to  quiet  her  that  she  came  down  to  her 
usual  swift  and  steady  walk. 

When  there  was  this  chance  to  talk  without  hav 
ing  every  word  jolted  out  in  fragments,  the  young 
person  was  silent;  and  when  I  remarked,  "There 
is  now  an  opportunity  to  chat  with  comfort,"  said : 

"  I  was  waiting,  sir,  to  hear  your  excuses ;  but  per 
haps  Friends  do  not  apologise." 

I  thought  her  saucy,  for  I  had  done  my  best ;  and 
for  her  to  think  me  unmannerly  was  neither  just  nor 
kind. 

"If  I  am  of  thy  friends—" 

"  Oh,  Quakers,  I  meant.  Friends  with  a  large  F, 
Mr.  Wynne." 

"It  had  been  no  jesting  matter  if  the  mare  had 
given  thee  a  hard  fall." 

"  I  should  have  liked  that  better  than  to  be  ordered 
to  do  as  your  worship  thought  fit." 

"  Then  thou  shouldst  not  have  obeyed  me." 

"  But  I  had  to." 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  And  the  talk  having  fallen  into  these 


158  HUGH  WYNNE 

brevities,  Miss  Peniston  was  quiet  awhile,  no  doubt 
pouting  prettily  ;  her  face  was,  of  course,  hid  from  me. 

After  a  while  she  said  something  about  the  mile 
stones  being  near  together,  and  then  took  to  praising 
Lucy,  who,  I  must  say,  had  behaved  as  ill  as  a  horse 
could.  I  said  as  much,  whereon  I  was  told  that 
mares  were  jealous  animals;  which  I  thought  a 
queer  speech,  and  replied,  not  knowing  well  how  to 
reply,  that  the  mare  was  a  good  beast,  and  that  it 
was  fair  flattery  to  praise  a  man's  horse,  for  what 
was  best  in  the  horse  came  of  the  man's  handling. 

"  But  even  praise  of  his  watch  a  man  likes,"  said 
she.  "He  has  a  fine  appetite,  and  likes  to  fatten 
his  vanity." 

She  was  too  quick  for  me  in  those  days,  and  I  never 
was  at  any  time  very  smart  at  this  game,  having  to 
reflect  too  long  before  seeing  my  way.  I  said  that 
she  was  no  doubt  right,  but  thus  far  that  I  had 
had  thin  diet. 

Perhaps  saying  that  Lucy  was  gay  and  well  bred 
and  had  good  paces  was  meant  to  please  the  rider. 
This  woman,  as  I  found  later,  was  capable  of  many 
varieties  of  social  conduct,  and  was  not  above  flatter 
ing  for  the  mere  pleasure  it  gave  her  to  indulge  her 
generosity,  and  for  the  joy  she  had  in  seeing  others 
happy. 

Wondering  if  what  she  had  said  might  be  true, 
held  me  quiet  for  a  while,  and  busied  with  her  words, 
I  quite  forgot  the  young  woman  whose  breath  I  felt 
now  and  then  on  my  hair,  as  she  sat  behind  me. 

Silence  never  suited  Miss  Peniston  long  in  those 


HUGH  WYNNE  159 

days,  and  especially  not  at  this  time,  she  being  in  a 
merry  mood,  such  as  a  little  adventure  causes.  Her 
moods  were,  in  fact,  many  and  changeful,  and,  as  I 
was  to  learn,  were  too  apt  to  rule  even  her  serious 
actions  for  the  time  ;  but  under  it  all  was  the  true 
law  of  her  life,  strongly  charactered,  and  abiding 
like  the  constitution  of  a  land.  It  was  long  before  I 
knew  the  real  woman,  since  for  her,  as  for  the  most 
of  us,  all  early  acquaintance  was  a  masquerade,  and 
some  have,  like  this  lady,  as  many  vizards  as  my 
Aunt  Grainor  had  in  her  sandalwood  box,  with  her 
long  gloves  and  her  mitts. 

The  mare  being  now  satisfied  to  walk  comfortably, 
we  were  going  by  the  Wister  house,  when  I  saw  saucy 
young  Sally  Wister  in  the  balcony  over  the  stoop, 
midway  of  the  penthouse.  She  knew  us  both,  and 
pretended  shame  for  us,  with  her  hands  over  her 
face,  laughing  merrily.  We  were  friends  in  after 
life,  and  if  you  would  know  how  gay  a  creature 
a  young  Quakeress  could  be,  and  how  full  of  mis 
chief,  you  should  see  her  journal,  kept  for  Deborah 
Logan,  then  Miss  Norris.  It  has  wonderful  gaiety, 
and,  as  I  read  it,  fetches  back  to  mind  the  officers 
she  prettily  sketches,  and  is  so  sprightly  and  so  full 
of  a  life  that  must  have  been  a  joy  to  itself  and  to 
others,  that  to  think  of  it  as  gone  and  over,  and  of 
her  as  dead,  seems  to  me  a  thing  impossible. 

It  was  not  thought  proper  then  for  a  young  woman 
to  go  on  pillion  behind  a  young  man,  and  this  Mi:  s 
Sally  well  knew.  I  dare  say  she  set  it  down  for  the 
edification  of  her  young  friend. 


160  HUGH  WYNNE 

"The  child"  (she  was  rather  more  than  that)  "is 
saucy,"  said  my  lady,  who  understood  well  enough 
what  her  gestures  meant.  "  I  should  like  to  box  her 
ears.  You  were  very  silent  just  now,  Mr.  Wynne. 
A  penny  is  what  most  folks'  thoughts  are  bid  for, 
but  yours  may  be  worth  more.  I  would  not  stand 
at  a  shilling." 

" Then  give  it  to  me,"  said  I.  "I  assure  thee  a 
guinea  were  too  little." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  Oh,  but  the  shilling." 

"  I  promise." 

"  I  seem  to  see  a  little,  dark-faced  child  crying  be 
cause  of  a  boy  in  disgrace—" 

"Pretty?"  she  asked  demurely. 

"  No,  rather  plain." 

"  You  seem  to  have  too  good  a  memory,  sir.  Who 
was  she  ? " 

"  She  is  not  here  to-day." 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  she  cried.  "  I  have  her— oh,  some 
where  !  She  comes  out  on  occasions.  You  may 
never  see  her ;  you  may  see  her  to-morrow." 

I  was  to  see  her  often.     "  My  shilling,"  I  said. 

"  That  was  only  a  jest,  Mr.  Wynne.  My  other 
girl  has  stolen  it,  for  remembrance  of  a  lad  that  was 
brave  and—" 

"  He  was  a  young  fool !     My  shilling,  please." 

"No,  no!" 

At  this  I  touched  the  mare  with  my  spur.  She, 
not  seeing  the  joke,  pranced  about,  and  Miss  Darthea 
was  forced  to  hold  to  my  waist  for  a  minute. 


HUGH  WYNNE  161 

"  The  mare  is  ill  broke,"  she  cried.  "  Why  does 
she  not  go  along  quietly?" 

"  She  hates  dishonesty/7 1  said. 

"  But  I  have  not  a  penny." 

"Thou  shouldst  never  run  in  debt  if  thou  art 
without  means.  It  is  worse  than  gambling,  since 
here  thou  hast  had  a  consideration  for  thy  money, 
and  I  am  out  of  pocket  by  a  valuable  thought." 

1 '  I  am  very  bad.  I  may  get  prayed  over  in  Meeting, 
only  we  do  not  have  the  custom  at  Christ  Church." 

I  was  struck  dumb.  Of  course  every  one  knew  of 
my  disaster  and  what  came  of  it ;  but  that  a  young 
girl  should  taunt  me  with  it,  and  for  no  reason, 
seemed  incredible.  No  one  ever  spoke  of  it  to  me, 
not  even  Mistress  Ferguson,  whose  daily  food  was 
the  saying  of  things  no  one  else  dared  to  say.  I  rode 
on  without  a  word. 

At  last  I  heard  a  voice  back  of  me  quite  changed 
—tender,  almost  tearful.  "Will  you  pardon  me, 
Mr.  Wynne  ?  I  was  wicked,  and  now  I  have  hurt 
you  who  was  once  so  good  to  me.  Your  aunt  says 
that  I  am  six  girls,  not  one,  and  that—  Will  you 
please  to  forgive  me  ? " 

"  Pray  don't  ;  there  is  nothing  to  forgive.  I  am 
over-sensitive,  I  suppose.  My  friend  Mr.  Wilson 
says  it  is  a  great  thing  in  life  to  learn  how  to  forget 
wisely.  I  am  learning  the  lesson ;  but  some  wounds 
take  long  to  heal,  and  this  is  true  of  a  boy's  folly. 
Pray  say  no  more."  I  put  the  mare  to -trotting,  and 
we  rode  on  past  Cliveden  and  Mount  Airy,  neither 
speakfng  for  a  while. 
11 


162  HUGH  WYNNE 

I  wondered,  as  we  rode,  at  her  rashness  of  talk  and 
her  want  of  consideration ;  and  I  reflected,  with  a 
certain  surprise,  at  the  frequent  discovery,  of  late, 
on  how  much  older  I  seemed  to  be.  It  was  a 
time  which  quickly  matured  the  thoughtful,  and  I 
was  beginning  to  shake  off,  in  some  degree,  the  life 
long  shackles  of  limitation  as  to  conduct,  dress,  and 
minor  morals,  imposed  upon  me  by  my  home  sur 
roundings.  In  a  word,  being  older  than  my  years,  I 
began  to  think  for  myself.  Under  the  influence  of 
Mr.  Wetherill  I  had  come,  as  without  him  I  could  not 
have  done,  to  see  how  much  there  was  of  the  beauti 
ful  and  noble  in  the  creed  of  Fox  and  Penn,  how 
much,  too,  there  was  in  it  to  cramp  enterprise,  to 
limit  the  innocent  joys  of  life,  to  render  progress 
impossible,  and  submission  to  every  base  man  or 
government  a  duty. 

I  had  learned,  too,  in  my  aunt's  house,  the  ways 
and  manners  of  a  larger  world,  and,  if  I  had  yielded 
to  its  temptations,  I  had  at  least  profited  by  the  bit 
ter  lesson.  I  was  on  the  verge  of  manhood,  and  had 
begun  to  feel  as  I  had  never  done  before  the  charm 
of  woman ;  this  as  yet  I  hardly  knew. 

As  we  breasted  the  hill,  and  saw  beneath  us 
the  great  forest-land  spread  out,  with  its  scattered 
farms,  an  exclamation  of  delight  broke  from  my 
companion's  lips.  It  was  beautiful  then,  as  it  is  to 
day,  with  the  far-seen  range  of  hills  beyond  the  river, 
where  lay  the  Valley  Forge  I  was  to  know  so  well,  and 
Whitemarsh,  all  under  the  hazy  blue  of  a  cool  August 
day,  with  the  northwest  wind  blowing  in  iny  face. 


HUGH  WYNNE  163 

Within  there  were  my  aunt  and  some  young  wo 
men,  and  my  Cousin  Arthur,  with  explanations  to  be 
made,  after  which  my  young  woman  hurried  off  to 
make  her  toilet,  and  I  to  rid  me  of  my  riding-dress. 

It  was  about  seven  when  we  assembled  out  of  doors 
under  the  trees,  where  on  summer  days  my  Aunt 
Gainor  liked  to  have  supper  served.  My  Cousin 
Wynne  left  Mrs.  Ferguson  and  came  to  meet  me. 
We  strolled  apart,  and  he  began  to  ask  me  questions 
about  the  tea  cargoes  expected  soon,  but  which  came 
not  until  December.  I  said  my  father's  voyage  would 
prevent  his  acting  as  consignee,  and  this  seemed  to 
surprise  him  and  make  him  thoughtful,  perhaps  be 
cause  he  was  aware  of  my  father's  unflinching  loyalty. 
He  spoke,  too,  of  Mr.  Wilson,  appearing—  and  this 
was  natural  enough — to  know  of  my  intimacy  with 
the  Whig  gentleman.  I  was  cautious  in  my  replies, 
and  he  learned,  I  think,  but  little.  It  was  a  pity,  he 
said,  that  my  father  would  not  visit  Wyncote.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  he  dwelt  overmuch  on  this  matter, 
and  my  aunt,  who  greatly  fancied  him,  was  also  of  this 
opinion.  I  learned  long  after  that  he  desired  to 
feel  entirely  assured  as  to  the  certainty  of  this  visit 
not  being  made.  I  said  now  that  I  wished  I  had  my 
father's  chance  to  see  our  Welsh  home,  and  that  I 
often  felt  sorry  my  grandfather  had  given  it  up. 

"  But  he  did,"  said  my  cousin,  "  and  no  great  thing, 
either.  Here  you  are  important  people.  We  are 
petty  Welsh  squires,  in  a  decaying  old  house,  with 
no  money,  and  altogether  small  folk.  I  should  like 
to  change  places  with  you." 


164  HUGH  WYNNE 

"And  yet  I  regret  it,"  said  I.  My  Aunt  Gainor 
had  filled  me  full  of  the  pride  of  race. 

I  spoke  as  we  approached  the  group  about  my 
aunt,  and  I  saw  his  face  take  an  expression  which 
struck  me.  He  had  a  way  of  half  closing  his  eyes, 
and  letting  his  jaw  drop  a  little.  I  saw  it  often  after 
ward.  I  suspect  now  that  he  was  dealing  intensely 
with  some  problem  which  puzzled  him. 

He  seemed  to  me  to  be  entirely  unconscious  of  this 
singular  expression  of  face,  or,  as  at  this  time,  to  be 
off  his  guard ;  for  the  look  did  not  change,  although 
I  was  gazing  at  him  with  attention.  Suddenly  I 
saw  come  down  the  green  alley,  walled  with  well- 
trimmed  box,  a  fresh  vision  of  her  who  had  been 
riding  with  me  so  lately.  My  cousin  also  became 
aware  of  the  figure  which  passed  gaily  under  the 
trees  and  smiled  at  us  from  afar. 

"  By  George !  Hugh/7  said  Arthur,  "  who  is  the 
sylph  ?  what  grace  !  what  grace !  " 

For  a  moment  I  did  not  reply.  She  wore  a  silken 
brocade  with  little  broidered  roses  here  and  there,  a 
bodice  of  the  same,  cut  square  over  a  girl-like  neck, 
white,  and  not  yet  filled  up.  Her  long  gloves  were 
held  up  to  the  sleeve  by  tightens  of  plaited  white 
horsehair,  which  held  a  red  rosebud  in  each  tie ;  and 
her  hair  was  braided  with  a  ribbon,  and  set  high  in 
coils  on  her  head,  with  but  little  powder.  As  she 
came  to  meet  us  she  dropped  a  curtsey,  and  kissed 
my  aunt's  hand,  as  was  expected  of  young  people. 

I  have  tried  since  to  think  what  made  her  so  un 
like  other  women.  It  was  not  the  singular  grace 


HUGH  WYNNE  165 

which  had  at  once  struck  my  cousin  j  neither  was 
she  beautiful.  I  long  after  hated  Miss  Chew  for  an 
hour  because  she  said  Darthea  Peniston  had  not  one 
perfect  feature.  She  had,  notwithstanding,  clear, 
large  brown  eyes,  and  a  smile  which  was  so  vari 
ously  eloquent  that  no  man  saw  it  unmoved.  This 
was  not  all.  Her  face  had  some  of  that  charm  of 
mystery  which  a  few  women  possess— a  questioning 
look;  but,  above  all,  there  was  a  strange  flavour  of 
feminine  attractiveness,  more  common  in  those  who 
are  older  than  she,  and  fuller  in  bud ;  rare,  I  think, 
in  one  whose  virgin  curves  have  not  yet  come  to 
maturity.  What  she  was  to  me  that  summer  even 
ing  she  was  to  all  men— a  creature  of  many  moods, 
and  of  great  power  to  express  them  in  face  and  voice. 
She  was  young,  she  loved  admiration,  and  could  be 
carried  off  her  feet  at  times  by  the  follies  of  the 
gay  world. 

If  you  should  wonder  how,  at  this  distant  day,  I 
can  recall  her  dress,  I  may  say  that  one  of  my  aunt's 
lessons  was  that  a  man  should  notice  how  a  woman 
dressed,  and  not  fail  at  times  to  compliment  a  gown, 
or  a  pretty  fashion  of  hair.  You  may  see  that  I  had 
some  queer  schoolmasters. 

I  said  to  my  cousin,  "  That  is  Miss  Darthea  Pen 
iston." 

"Darthea/7  he  repeated.  "She  looks  the  name. 
Sad  if  she  had  been  called  Deborah,  or  some  of  your 
infernally  idiotic  Scripture  names." 

He  was  duly  presented,  and,  I  must  say,  made  the 
most  of  his  chances  for  two  days,  so  that  the  elder 


166  HUGH   WYNNE 

dames  were  amused  at  Darthea's  conquest,  my  cousin 
having  so  far  shown  no  marked  preference  for  any 
one  except  the  elder  Miss  Franks,  who  was  rich  and 
charming  enough  to  have  many  men  at  her  feet, 
despite  her  Hebrew  blood. 

In  truth  he  had  been  hit  hard  that  fatal  August 
afternoon,  and  he  proved  a  bold  and  constant  wooer. 
With  me  it  was  a  more  tardy  influence  which  the  fair 
Darthea  as  surety  exerted.  I  was  troubled  and  dis 
turbed  at  the  constancy  of  my  growing  and  ardent 
affection.  At  first  I  scarce  knew  why,  but  by  and 
by  I  knew  too  well  j  and  the  more  hopeless  became 
the  business,  the  more  resolute  did  I  grow ;  this  is 
my  way  and  nature. 

During  the  remaining  weeks  of  summer  I  saw 
much  of  Miss  Peniston,  and  almost  imperceptibly 
was  made  at  last  to  feel,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life, 
the  mysterious  influence  of  woman.  Now  and  then 
we  rode  with  my  aunt,  or  went  to  see  the  troops  re 
viewed.  I  thought  she  liked  me,  but  it  soon  became 
only  too  clear  that  at  this  game,  where  hearts  were 
trumps,  I  was  no  match  for  my  dark,  handsome 
cousin,  in  his  brilliant  uniform. 


XII 


|N  September  1,  1773,  and  earlier  than 
had  been  meant,  my  father  set  sail  for 
London  with  my  ever  dear  mother. 
Many  assembled  to  see  the  "Fair  Trader" 
leave  her  moorings.  I  went  with  my 
people  as  far  as  Lewes,  and  on  account  of  weather 
had  much  ado  to  get  ashore.  The  voyage  down  the 
Delaware  was  slow,  for  from  want  of  proper  lights 
we  must  needs  lay  by  at  night,  and  if  winds  were 
contrary  were  forced  to  wait  for  the  ebb. 

While  I  was  with  them  my  father  spoke  much  to 
me  of  business,  but  neither  blamed  my  past,  nor  praised 
my  later  care  and  assiduity  in  affairs.  He  was  sure 
the  king  would  have  his  way,  and,  I  thought,  felt  sorry 
to  have  so  readily  given  up  the  consigneeship  of  the 
teas.  I  was  otherwise  minded,  and  I  asked  what  was 
to  be  done  in  the  event  of  certain  troubles  such  as 
many  feared.  He  said  that  Thomas,  his  old  clerk, 
would  decide,  and  my  Aunt  Grainor  had  a  power  of 
attorney ;  as  to  the  troubles  I  spoke  of,  he  well 
knew  that  I  meant  such  idle  disturbances  of  peace 
as  James  Wilson  and  Wetherill  were  doing  their 
best  to  bring  about. 

"Thy  Cousin  Arthur  is  better  advised,"  he  said, 
167 


168  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  and  a  man  of  sound  judgment.  Thou  mightst  seek 
worse  counsel  on  occasion  of  need." 

I  was  surprised  at  this,  for  I  should  have  believed, 
save  as  to  the  king,  they  could  not  have  had  one 
opinion  in  common. 

Far  other  were  those  sweeter  talks  I  had  with  my 
mother,  as  we  sat  on  the  deck  in  a  blaze  of  sunlight. 
She  burned  ever  a  handsome  brown,  without  freckles, 
and  loved  to  sit  out,  even  in  our  great  heats.  She 
would  have  me  be  careful  at  my  aunt's  not  to  be  led 
into  idleness ;  for  the  rest  I  had  her  honest  trust ;  and 
her  blue  eyes,  bright  with  precious  tears,  declared 
her  love,  and  hopeful  belief.  I  must  not  neglect  my 
French— it  would  keep  her  in  mind ;  and  she  went 
on  in  that  tongue  to  say  what  a  joy  I  had  been  in 
her  life,  and  how  even  my  follies  had  let  her  see  how 
true  a  gentleman  I  was.  Then,  and  never  before, 
did  she  say  a  thing  which  left  on  my  mind  a  fear 
that  life  had  not  brought  and  kept  for  her  through 
out  all  the  happiness  which  so  good  and  noble  a 
creature  deserved. 

•'  There  is  much  of  thy  father  in  thee,  Hugh.  Thou 
art  firm  as  he  is,  and  fond  of  thine  own  way.  This 
is  not  bad,  if  thou  art  thoughtful  to  see  that  thy  way 
is  a  good  way.  But  do  not  grow  hard.  And  when 
thou  art  come  to  love  some  good  woman,  do  not 
make  her  life  a  struggle." 

" But  I  love  no  woman,  ma  mere"  I  cried,  " and 
never  shall,  as  I  love  thee.  It  is  the  whole  of  my  love 
thou  hast,  cJiere,  chere  maman  ;  thou  hast  it  all." 

"  Ah,  then  I  shall  know  to  divide  with  her,  Hugh  j 


HUGH  WYNNE  169 

and  I  shall  be  generous  too.  If  thou  hast  any  little 
fancies  that  way,  thou  must  write  and  tell  me.  Oh, 
man  fils,  thou  wilt  write  often,  and  I  must  know 
all  the  news.  I  do  hear  that  Darthea  Peniston  is  in 
thy  aunt's  house  a  good  deal,  and  Madam  Ferguson, 
the  gossip,  would  have  me  believe  thou  carest  for  her, 
and  that  Arthur  Wynne  is  taken  in  the  same  net.  I 
liked  her.  I  did  not  tell  thee  that  thy  Aunt  Gainor 
left  her  with  me  for  an  hour  while  she  went  into 
King  street  to  bargain  for  a  great  china  god.  What 
a  gay,  winning  creature  it  is !  She  must  needs  tell 
me  all  about  herself.  Why  do  people  so  unlock 
their  hearts  for  me?" 

I  laughed,  and  said  she  had  a  key  called  love  ;  and 
on  this  she  kissed  me,  and  asked  did  I  say  such  pretty 
things  to  other  women  ?  Darthea  was  now  to  live 
with  her  aunt,  that  stiff  Mistress  Peniston,  who  was 
a  fierce  Tory.  "  She  will  have  a  fine  bargain  of  the 
girl.  She  has  twenty  ways  with  her,  real  or  false, 
and  can  make  music  of  them  all  like  a  mocking-bird. 
Dost  thou  like  her,  Hugh?— I  mean  Darthea." 

I  said,  "Yes." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  she  ran  on.  "I  loved  her  at  sight. 
But  if  ever  thou  dost  come  to  love  her— and  I  see 
signs,  oh,  I  see  signs— if  ever,— then  beware  of  thy 
Cousin  Wynne.  I  heard  him  once  say  to  thy  father, 
1  If  there  is  only  one  glass  of  the  Madeira  left,  I  want 
it,  because  there  is  only  one.'  And  there  is  only  one 
of  a  good  woman.  What  another  wants  that  man 
is  sure  to  want,  and  I  do  not  like  him,  Hugh.  Thou 
dost,  I  think.  He  has  some  reason  to  linger  here. 


OF   Ti 


170  HUGH   WYNNE 

Is  it  this  woman  ?  Or  would  he  spy  out  the  land  to 
know  what  we  mean  to  do  ?  I  am  sure  he  has  orders 
to  watch  the  way  things  are  going,  or  why  should  not 
he  have  gone  with  Sir  Guy  Carleton  to  Quebec  ?  It 
is  a  roundabout  way  to  go  through  Philadelphia." 

I  said  I  did  not  know ;  but  her  words  set  me  to 
thinking,  and  to  wondering,  too,  as  I  had  not  done 
before.  Another  time  she  asked  me  why  Arthur 
talked  so  as  to  disgust  my  father  out  of  all  idea  of 
going  to  see  the  home  of  his  ancestors.  I  promised 
to  be  careful  as  to  my  cousin,  whom,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  liked  less  and  less  as  time  ran  on. 

At  Lewes  we  parted.  Shall  I  ever  forget  it? 
Those  great  blue  eyes  above  the  gunwale,  and  then 
a  white  handkerchief,  and  then  no  more.  When  I 
could  no  longer  see  the  ship's  hull  I  climbed  a  great 
sand-dune,  and  watched  even  the  masts  vanish  on 
the  far  horizon.  It  was  to  me  a  solemn  parting. 
The  seas  were  wide  and  perilous  in  those  days,  the 
buccaneers  not  all  gone,  and  the  trading  ship  was 
small,  I  thought,  to  carry  a  load  so  precious. 

As  the  sun  went  down  I  walked  over  the  dunes, 
which  are  of  white  sand,  and  forever  shifting,  so  as 
at  one  time  to  threaten  with  slow  burial  the  little 
town,  and  at  another  to  be  moving  on  to  the  forest. 
As  they  changed,  old  wrecks  came  into  view,  and  I 
myself  saw  sticking  out  the  bones  of  sailors  buried 
here  long  ago,  or  haply  cast  ashore.  A  yet  stranger 
thing  I  beheld,  for  the  strong  northwest  wind,  which 
blew  hard  all  day  and  favoured  the  "  Fair  Trader,"  had 
so  cast  about  the  fine  sand  that  the  buried  snow  of 


HUGH  WYNNE  171 

last  winter  was  to  be  seen,  which  seemed  to  me  a 
thing  most  singular.  When  I  told  Jack,  he  made 
verses  about  it,  as  he  did  sometimes,  but  would 
show  them  only  to  me.  I  forget  entirely  what 
he  wrote;  how  a  man  can  make  verses  and  dig 
rhymes  out  of  his  head  has  always  been  to  me  a 
puzzle. 

At  the  town  inn,  "  The  Lucky  Fisherman,"  I  saw, 
to  my  surprise,  Jack  on  horseback,  just  arrived.  He 
said  he  had  a  debt  to  collect  for  his  father.  It  was 
no  doubt  true,  for  Jack  could  not  tell  even  the 
mildest  fib  and  not  get  rose-red.  But  he  knew  how 
I  grieved  at  this  separation  from  my  mother,  and,  I 
think,  made  an  occasion  to  come  down  and  bear  me 
company  on  my  long  ride  home.  I  was  truly  glad  to 
have  him.  Together  we  wandered  through  the  great 
woodlands  Mr.  Penn  had  set  aside  to  provide  fire 
wood  forever  for  the  poor  of  Lewes. 

The  next  day  we  sent  Tom  on  ahead  with  our  sacks 
to  Newcastle,  where  we  meant  to  bait  ourselves  and 
our  horses.  But  first  we  rode  down  the  coast  to 
Rehoboth,  and  had  a  noble  sea-bath  j  also  above  the 
beach  was  a  bit  of  a  fresh- water  lake,  most  delicious 
to  take  the  salt  off  the  skin.  After  this  diversion, 
which  as  usual  dismissed  my  blue  devils,  we  set  out 
up  the  coast  of  the  Bay  of  Delaware,  and  were  able 
to  reach  Newcastle  that  evening,  and  the  day  after 
our  own  homes. 

This  ride  gave  us  a  fine  chance  for  talk,  and  we 
made  good  use  of  it. 

As  we  passed  between  the  hedges  and  below  the 


172  HUGH  WYNNE 

old  Swede  church  nigh  to  Wilmington,  Jack  fell  into 
talk  of  Darthea  Peniston.  Why  we  had  not  done  so 
before  I  knew  not  then  j  we  were  both  shy  of  the 
subject.  I  amused  myself  by  insisting  that  she  was 
but  a  light-minded  young  woman  with  no  strong 
basis  of  character,  and  too  fond  of  a  red  coat.  It 
did  amuse  me  to  see  how  this  vexed  Jack,  who 
would  by  no  means  accept  my  verdict.  We  con 
versed  far  longer  on  the  stormy  quarrels  of  the 
colonies  and  their  stepmother  England,  who  seemed 
to  have  quite  forgot  of  what  blood  and  breed  they 
were. 

Concerning  my  Cousin  Wynne,  with  whom  at  first 
I  had  been  much  taken,  Jack  was  not  inclined  to 
speak  freely.  This  I  foolishly  thought  was  because 
Arthur  laughed  at  him,  and  was,  as  he  knew,  of 
some  folks'  notion  that  Jack  was  a  feminine  kind  of 
a  fellow.  That  he  had  the  quick  insight  and  the 
heart  of  a  woman  was  true,  but  that  was  not  all  of 
my  dear  Jack. 

My  aunt  came  back  to  town  early  in  September, 
and  I  took  up  my  abode  in  her  town  house,  where  a 
new  life  began  for  me.  Letters  went  and  came  at  long 
intervals.  Our  first  reached  me  far  on  in  October. 

My  mother  wrote :  "  There  is  great  anger  here  in 
London  because  of  this  matter  of  the  tea.  Lord 
Germaine  says  we  are  a  tumultuous  rabble;  thy 
father  has  been  sent  for  by  Lord  North,  and  I  fear 
has  spoken  unadvisedly  as  to  things  at  home.  It  is 
not  well  for  a  wife  to  differ  with  her  husband,  and 
this  I  will  not ;  nevertheless  I  am  not  fully  of  his 


HUGH  WYNNE  173 

way  of  thinking  as  to  these  sad  troubles ;  this,  how 
ever,  is  not  for  any  eye  or  ear  but  thine.  Benjamin 
Franklin  was  here  to  see  us  last  week.  He  seems  to 
think  we  might  as  well,  or  better,  pay  for  the  tea, 
and  this  suited  thy  father ;  but  after  thus  agreeing 
they  went  wide  apart,  Franklin  having  somewhat 
shed  his  Quaker  views.  I  did  fear  at  times  that  the 
talk  would  be  strong. 

"  When  he  had  gone  away,  thy  father  said  he  never 
had  the  Spirit  with  him,  and  was  ever  of  what  creed 
did  most  advantage  him,  and  perhaps  underneath  of 
none  at  all.  But  this  I  think  not.  He  hath  much 
of  the  shrewd  wisdom  of  New  England,  which  I  like 
not  greatly ;  but  as  to  this,  I  kncrw  some  who  have 
less  of  any  wisdom,  and,  after  all,  I  judge  not  a  man 
so  wise,  and  so  much  my  elder. 

"  General  Gage,  lately  come  hither  on  a  visit,  we 
are  told  assured  the  king  that  no  other  colony  would 
stand  by  Massachusetts,  and  that  four  regiments 
could  put  an  end  to  the  matter.  I  am  no  politician, 
but  it  makes  me  angry  to  hear  them  talk  of  us  as  if 
we  were  but  a  nursery  of  naughty  children.  It  seems 
we  are  to  pay  for  the  tea,  and  until  we  do  no  ships 
may  enter  Boston  harbour.  Also  all  crown  officers 
who  may  commit  murder  are  to  be  tried  in  England ; 
and  there  is  more,  but  I  forget." 

This  was  most  of  it  fresh  news  to  us.  Meanwhile 
Hutchinson,  the  governor  of  the  rebel  State,  was 
assuring  Lord  North  that  to  resist  was  against  our 
interest,  and  we,  being  "  a  trading  set,"  would  never 
go  to  extremes.  "  As  if,"  said  Wilson,  "  nations,  like 


174  HUGH  WYNNE 

men,  had  not  passions  and  emotions,  as  well  as  day 
books  and  ledgers." 

Meanwhile  at  home  our  private  affairs  were  rapidly 
wound  up  and  put  in  good  condition.  My  father 
found  it  difficult  to  collect  his  English  debts,  and  so 
had  to  limit  his  purchases,  which  we  stowed  as  they 
came  over,  declining  to  sell.  As  business  failed,  I 
was  more  and  more  at  leisure,  and  much  in  the  com 
pany  of  my  cousin,  whom  to-day  I  disliked,  and  to 
morrow  thought  the  most  amusing  and  agreeable  of 
companions.  He  taught  me  to  shoot  ducks  at  League 
Island,  and  chose  a  good  fowling-piece  for  me. 

On  Sundays  I  went  to  hear  my  aunt's  friend,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  White,  preach  at  Christ  Church,  and  would 
not  go  to  Meeting,  despite  Samuel  Wetherill,  whose 
Society  of  Free  Quakers  did  not  come  to  life  until 
1780.  Meanwhile  by  degrees  I  took  to  wearing  finer 
garments.  Cards  I  would  never  touch,  nor  have  I 
often,  to  this  day. 

One  morning,  long  after  my  parents  left,  my  Aunt 
Grainor  looked  me  over  with  care,  pleased  at  the 
changes  in  my  dress,  and  that  evening  she  presented 
me  with  two  fine  sets  of  neck  and  wrist  ruffles,  and 
with  paste  buckles  for  knees  and  shoes.  Then  she  told 
me  that  my  cousin,  the  captain,  had  recommended 
Pike  as  a  fencing-master,  and  she  wished  me  to  take 
lessons 5  "for,"  said  she,  "who  knows  but  you  may 
some  day  have  another  quarrel  on  your  hands,  and 
then  where  will  you  be  ? " 

I  declared  that  my  father  would  be  properly  furi 
ous  ;  but  she  laughed,  and  opened  and  shut  her  fan. 


HUGH  WYNNE  175 

and  said  he  was  three  thousand  miles  away,  and  that 
she  was  my  guardian,  and  responsible  for  my  educa 
tion.  I  was  by  no  means  loath,  and  a  day  later  went 
to  see  the  man  with  my  Cousin  Arthur,  who  asked,  as 
we  went,  many  questions  about  my  mother,  and  then 
if  my  father  had  left  England,  or  had  been  to  Wyn- 
cote. 

I  had,  as  he  spoke,  a  letter  in  my  pocket  writ  in 
the  neat  characters  I  knew  so  well ;  our  clerk  com 
ing  from  New  York  had  just  given  it  to  me,  and  as 
I  had  not  as  yet  read  it,  liking  for  this  rare  pleasure 
to  taste  it  when  alone,  I  did  not  mention  it  to  my 
cousin.  I  told  him  I  was  sure  my  father  would  not 
go  to  Wales,  both  because  of  business,  and  for  other 
reasons ;  but  I  hoped  when  he  came  back  to  get  leave 
to  be  a  year  away,  and  then  I  should  be  sure  to  visit 
our  old  nest. 

My  cousin  said,  "A  year— a  year,"  musingly,  and 
asked  when  my  parents  would  return. 

I  said,  "About  next  October,  and  by  the  islands," 
meaning  the  Madeiras. 

To  this  Arthur  Wynne  returned,  in  an  absent  fash 
ion,  "  Many  things  may  happen  in  a  year." 

I  laughed,  and  said  his  observation  could  not  be 
contradicted. 

"  What  observation  ?  "  he  replied,  and  then  seemed 
so  self-absorbed  that  I  cried  out : 

"  What  possesses  thee,  Cousin  Wynne  ?  Thou  art 
sad  of  late.  I  can  tell  thee  the  women  say  thou  art 
in  love." 

"  And  if  I  were,  what  then  ?  " 


176  HUGH  WYNNE 

This  frankness  in  a  man  so  mature  seemed  to  me 
odd,  when  I  thought  how  shy  was  the  growing  ten 
derness  my  own  heart  began  to  hide.  His  words 
troubled  me.  It  could  only  be  Darthea  Peniston. 
After  a  silence,  such  as  was  frequent  in  my  cousin, 
he  added,  "I  fear  that  blushing  friend  of  yours  is 
fluttering  about  a  certain  bright  candle.  A  pity 
the  lad  were  not  warned.  You  are  my  cousin, 
and  of  course  my  friend.  I  may  have  to  go  away 
soon,  and  I  may  ask  you  to  do  a  certain  thing 
for  me  when  I  am  gone.  No  man  nor  lad  shall 
stand  in  my  way,  and  you  must  hold  your  tongue 
too." 

I  was  puzzled  and  embarrassed.  I  said  cautiously, 
"  We  shall  see."  But  as  to  Jack  Warder,  I  liked  not 
what  he  said,  and  for  two  reasons.  I  knew  that, 
living  next  door  to  Darthea,  he  was  with  her  almost 
daily  5  and  here  was  a  new  and  terrible  fear,  for 
who  could  help  but  love  her?  Nor  could  I  hear 
with  patience  Jack  so  contemptuously  put  aside  as  a 
child. 

"Cousin  Arthur,"  I  said,  "thou  art  mistaken  in 
Warder.  There  is  no  more  resolute  or  courageous 
man.  Jack's  shy  ways  and  soft  fashions  make  him 
seem  like  a  timid  girl,  but  I  would  advise  no  one  to 
count  on  this."  I  went  on,  hesitating,  "He  is  an 
older  friend  than  thou,  and— holloa,  Jack ! "  for 
here  was  the  dear  fellow  himself,  smiling  and  blush 
ing;  and  where  had  the  captain  been  of  late?  and 
that  awkward  left  hand  was  taken,  and  Jack  would 
come  with  us  and  see  us  play  with  the  small  sword, 


HUGH  WYNNE  177 

and  would  like  to  go  after  the  ducks  to-morrow.  He 
seemed  happy  and  pleased  to  meet  us. 

Pike  was  a  little  man  who  had  a  room  among  the 
shops  on  Second  street.  He  wore,  as  I  had  often 
seen,  a  laced  cocked  hat,  and  was  clad  in  a  red  coat, 
such  as  none  wore  except  Creoles  from  the  French 
settlements,  or  gentlemen  from  the  Carolinas.  He  had 
the  straight  figure  and  aggressive  look  all  men  carry 
who  teach  the  sword,  and  a  set  belief  that  no  man 
could  teach  him  anything— a  small  game-cock  of  a 
fellow,  who  had  lost  one  eye  by  an  unlucky  thrust 
of  a  foil. 

I  will  let  Jack's  journal,  not  writ  till  long  after, 
tell  the  story  for  a  while.  He  saw  more  than  I  at 
the  time,  even  if  he  understood  it  all  as  little. 

"  I  saw  Hugh  strip,77  he  writes,  "  and  was  amused 
to  see  Pike  feel  his  muscles  and  exclaim  at  his  depth 
of  chest.  Then  he  showed  him  how  to  wear  the  wire 
mask,  while  the  captain  and  I  sat  by  and  looked  on. 

"  Hugh  was  awkward,  but  he  had  a  wrist  of  steel, 
and  when  once  he  had  caught  the  ideas  of  Pike,  who 
talked  all  the  time  in  a  squeaky  voice,  his  guard  was 
firm.  Pike  praised  him,  and  said  he  would  learn 
soon.  The  thing  so  attracted  me  that  I  was  fain  to 
know  how  it  felt  to  hold  a  foil ;  and  saying  as  much, 
the  captain,  who  fenced  here  daily,  said :  '  It  is  my 
breathing- time  of  day,  as  Prince  Hamlet  says.  By 
George !  you  should  see  Mr.  Garrick  in  that  fencing 
scene  !  I  will  give  Mr.  Warder  a  lesson.  I  have  rather 
a  fancy  for  giving  young  men  lessons.7 

"In  a  minute  I  saw  my  foil  fly  six  feet  away 

12 


178  HUGH  WYNNE 

with  such  a  wrench  of  the  wrist  as  made  my  arm 
tingle. 

"  'Hold  the  foil  lightly.  Not  so  stiff/  said  Pike,  and 
we  began  again.  Of  course  I  was  as  a  child  before 
this  man,  and  again  and  again  he  planted  a  button 
where  he  pleased,  and  seemed,  I  thought,  to  lunge 
more  fiercely  than  is  decent,  for  I  was  dotted  with 
blue  bruises  that  evening. 

"  At  last  I  gave  up,  and  the  captain  and  Pike  took 
the  foils,  while  we  sat  and  watched  them.  He  was 
more  than  a  match  for  Pike,  and  at  last  crying, 
1  Take  care  !  here  is  a  botte  you  do  not  know/  caught 
him  fair  in  the  left  chest. 

"  '  By  George  !  Mr.  Wynne,  that  is  a  pretty  piece 
of  play  !  I  remember  now  Major  Montresor  tried  to 
show  it  to  me.  He  said  it  was  that  way  you  killed 
Lord  Charles  Trevor.' 

"  I  was  shocked  to  know  he  had  killed  a  man,  and 
Hugh  looked  up  with  his  big  mother-eyes,  while  the 
captain  said  coolly  : 

" '  Yes ;  a  sad  business,  and  about  a  woman,  of 
course.  It  is  dreadful  to  have  that  kind  of  a  dispo 
sition,  boys,  that  makes  you  dangerous  to  some  one 
who  wants  what  you  want.  He  was  very  young  too. 
A  pity !  a  pity ! ' 

"  Hugh  and  I  said  nothing ;  but  I  had  the  odd  no 
tion  that  he  was  threatening  us.  One  gets  these 
ideas  vaguely  in  youth,  and  sometimes  after-events 
justify  them.  However,  the  fancy  soon  took  me  to 
fence  with  Hugh  in  his  room,  for  I  dared  not  risk 
asking  my  father's  leave.  As  Hugh  got  his  lessons 


HUGH  WYNNE  179 

both  from  Pike  and  the  captain,  and  became  very 
expert,  I  got  on  pretty  nearly  as  fast  as  he. 

"  At  times  we  practised  in  our  shirt-sleeves  in  the 
garden  at  Miss  Wynne's,  or  fenced  with  Gray  do  11, 
who  was  later  the  most  expert  small  sword  we  had 
in  the  army.  Hugh  soon  became  nearly  as  skilful, 
but  I  was  never  as  clever  at  it." 

One  day  we  were  busy,  as  Jack  has  described,  when 
who  should  come  out  into  the  garden  but  Mistress 
Wynne  and  Darthea,  and  behind  them  the  captain. 
We  dropped  our  points,  but  Miss  Peniston  cried  out, 
"  Go  on !  go  on !  "  and,  laughing,  we  fell  to  again. 

Presently  I,  a  bit  distracted,  for  I  was  facing 
Darthea's  eyes,  felt  Jack's  foil  full  on  my  chest. 
Darthea  clapped  her  hands,  and,  running  forward, 
would  pin  a  bunch  of  red  ribbons  she  took  from  her 
shoulder  on  Jack's  sleeve.  Jack  fell  back,  as  red  as 
the  ribbons,  and  my  aunt  cried  out,  "Darthea,  you 
are  too  forward  !  " 

The  young  woman  flushed,  and  cast  down  the  bow, 
and  as  Arthur  Wynne  bent  to  pick  it  up  set  her  foot 
on  it.  I  saw  the  captain  rise,  and  stand  with  the  half- 
shut  eyes  and  the  little  drop  of  the  jaw  I  have  already 
mentioned.  My  aunt,  who  liked  the  girl  well,  went 
after  her  at  once  as  she  left  us  in  a  pet  to  return  to 
the  house.  I  saw  my  aunt  put  a  hand  on  her  shoul 
der,  and  then  the  captain,  looking  vexed,  followed 
after.  An  hour  later  I  went  to  look  for  the  ribbon. 
It  was  gone,  and  for  years  I  knew  not  where,  till, 
in  a  little  box  in  Jack's  desk,  I  came  upon  it  neatly 
tied  up. 


180  HUGH  WYNNE 

Young  as  I  was,  I  began  to  see  that  here  were 
Captain  Wynne,  and  possibly  my  friend,  in  the  toils 
of  a  girl,— she  was  but  seventeen,— and  I,  alas!  no 
better  off ;  but  of  this  I  breathed  not  a  word  to  any. 
Jack  hung  about  her  and  fell  back  when  any  less 
shy  man  wanted  his  place.  I  felt  that  he  was  little 
likely  to  have  his  way,  and  that  neither  he  nor  I 
had  much  chance  in  such  a  game  against  a  man  like 
my  cousin.  He  had  played  with  hearts  before,  and 
the  maid  listened  like  Desdemona  to  this  dark-browed 
soldier  when  he  talked  of  courts  and  kings,  and  far 
away  Eastern  battles,  and  the  splendour  of  the  Orient. 
My  aunt,  whom  nothing  escaped,  looked  on  much 
amused.  Perhaps  she  did  not  take  as  serious  the 
love-affairs  of  lads  like  Jack  and  me.  We  were  like 
enough  to  have  a  dozen  before  we  were  really  cap 
tured.  That  I  was  becoming  at  twenty-one  more 
thoughtful  and  resolute  than  far  older  people,  she  did 
not  see,  and  she  was  sometimes  vexed  at  my  sober 
ways.  I  was  at  times  gay  enough,  but  at  others  she 
would  reproach  me  with  not  taking  more  pains  to 
please  her  guests.  Society,  she  said,  had  duties  as  well 
as  pleasures.  My  friend  Jack  no  one  fully  understood 
in  those  days,  nor  knew  the  sweet  manhood  and  the 
unselfishness  that  lay  beneath  his  girl-like  exterior. 

One  day,  late  in  November,  my  aunt  and  I  were, 
for  a  wonder,  alone,  when  she  dropped  the  cards  with 
which  she  was  playing,  and  said  to  me :  "  Hugh,  there 
is  something  serious  between  that  mischievous  kitten 
and  your  cousin.  They  are  much  talked  of.  If  you 
have  a  boy-fancy  that  way,  get  rid  of  it.  I  don't  see 


HUGH  WYNNE  181 

through  the  man.  He  has  been  telling  her  about  the 
fine  house  at  Wyncote,  and  the  great  estate,  and  how 
some  day  he  will  have  it,  his  elder  brother  being  far 
gone  in  a  phthisis." 

"There  must  be  some  mistake,"  I  said.  "Thou 
knowest  what  he  told  my  father." 

"  Yes ;  I  don't  like  it,"  she  went  on ;  "  but  the  girl 
is  caught.  He  talks  of  soon  having  to  join  Sir  Guy 
Carleton  in  Canada.  And  there  is  my  dear  girl-boy 
trapped  too,  I  fear.  But,  really,  he  is  such  a  child 
of  a  fellow  it  hardly  matters.  How  many  does  she 
want  in  her  net  ?  The  fish  may  squabble,  I  fear.  A 
sweet  thing  she  is  j  cruel  only  by  instinct ;  and  so 
gay,  so  tender,  so  truthful  and  right-minded  with 
all  her  nonsense.  No  one  can  help  loving  her ;  but 
to-day  she  has  one  mood,  and  to-morrow  another. 
There  will  be  a  mad  massacre  before  she  is  done 
with  you  all.  Run  away,  Hugh  !  run  !  Make  love 
to  Kitty  Shippen  if  you  want  to  get  Miss  Dar- 
thea." 

I  laughed,  but  I  had  little  mirth  in  my  heart. 

"  Aunt  Gainor,"  I  said,  "  I  love  that  woman,  and 
no  other  man  shall  have  her  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  If  ?  if  ?  Stuff !  you  can't  help  it.  Don't  be  a  fool ! 
The  sea  is  full  of  fish.  This  is  news  indeed." 

"The  land  has  but  one  Darthea,"  said  I.  "I  am 
a  boy  no  longer,  Aunt  Gainor.  Thou  hast  made  me 
tell  thee,  and,  now  it  is  out,  I  may  as  well  say  I  know 
all  about  my  cousin.  He  as  good  as  told  me,  and 
in  a  way  I  did  not  like.  The  man  thinks  I  am  a  boy 
to  be  scared  out  of  going  my  own  way.  I  have  told 


182  HUGH  WYNNE 

no  one  else ;  but  if  I  can  get  her  I  will,  and  it  is  no 
laughing  matter." 

"I- am  sorry,  Hugh/'  she  said.  "I  knew  not  it 
was  so  serious.  It  is  hard  to  realise  that  you  are  no 
more  a  boy,  and  must  have  the  sorrows  my  sex  pro 
vides  for  you.  I  like  her,  and  I  would  help  you  if  I 
could,  but  yon  are  late.'-  And  she  went  on  shuffling 
the  cards,  while  I  took  up  a  book,  being  inclined  to 
say  no  more. 

That  evening  two  letters  came  by  the  New  York 
packet.  One  from  my  father  I  put  aside.  It  was 
dated  outside,  and  was  written  two  weeks  later  than 
my  mother's,  which  I  read  first.  I  opened  it  with 
care. 

UMY  OWN  DEAR  SON  :  Thy  last  sweet  letter  was  a 
great  refreshment  to  me,  and  the  more  so  because  I 
have  not  been  well,  having  again  my  old  ache  in  the 
side,  but  not  such  as  need  trouble  thee.  I  blush  to 
hear  the  pretty  things  thy  letters  say ;  but  it  is  love 
that  holds  thy  pen,  and  I  must  not  be  too  much  set 
up  in  my  own  esteem.  How  much  love  I  give  thee 
in  return  thou  knowest,  but  to  pay  in  this  coin  will 
never  beggar  us.  I  love  thee  because  thou  art  all  I 
can  desire,  and  again  because  thou  lovest  me,  and 
again  for  this  same  dear  reason  which  is  all  I  can 
say  to  excuse  my  mother-folly.  Thy  father  is  well, 
but  weary  of  this  great  town ;  and  we  both  long  to 
be  at  home." 

Then  there  was  more  about  my  Aunt  Wynne,  and 
some  woman-talk  for  her  friends  about  the  new 


HUGH  WYNNE  183 

fashions,  which  do  not  concern  her,  she  being  not  of 
this  world.  "  Am  I  not  ? "  she  says.  "  I  love  it  all— 
the  sea,  even  the  sea,  and  flowers,  and  our  woods, 
and,  dear  me !  also  gay  gowns.  I  hope  the  last  I 
got  here  will  not  disturb  the  Meeting,  and  my  new 
muff,— very  big  it  is,— and  a  green  Joseph  to  ride  in. 
I  mean  to  ride  with  thee  next  spring  often — often." 
And  so  on,  half  mother,  half  child,  with  bits  of  her 
dear  French,  and  all  about  a  new  saddle  for  me,  and 
silver  spurs.  The  postscript  was  long. 

"  I  saw  last  week  a  fair  Quaker  dame  come  out  of 
Wales.  I  asked  her  about  the  Wynnes.  She  knew 
them  not,  but  told  me  of  their  great  house,  and  how  it 
was  a  show-place  people  went  to  see,  having  been  done 
over  at  great  cost  j  and  how  a  year  or  two  since  coal 
was  found  on  the  estate,  and  much  iron,  so  that  these 
last  two  years  they  were  rich,  and  there  was  some 
talk  of  making  the  present  man  a  baronet.  Also 
that  the  elder  brother  is  ill,  nigh  to  death.  It  seems 
strange  after  what  thy  cousin  said  so  often.  Thy 
father  is  away  in  Holland.  I  will  tell  him  when  he 
is  come  back.  Be  cautious  not  to  talk  of  this.  I 
never  liked  the  man." 

I  sat  back  in  my  chair  to  read  it  all  over  again,  first 
giving  my  aunt  my  father's  letter.  In  a  few  minutes 
I  heard  a  cry,  and  saw  my  aunt,  pale  and  shaken, 
standing  up,  the  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  My  God ! "  I  cried,  "  what  is  it  ?  Is  it  my 
mother?" 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  she  said.  "  Be  strong,  my  boy  !  She 
is— dead!  " 


184  HUGH  WYNNE 

For  a  moment  I  saw  the  room  whirl,  and  then,  as 
my  Aunt  Gainor  sat  down,  I  fell  on  my  knees  and 
buried  my  face  in  her  lap.  I  felt  her  dear  old  hands 
on  my  head,  and  at  last  would  have  the  letter.  It 
was  brief. 

"MY  SON:  The  hand  of  God  has  faUen  heavily 
upon  me.  Thy  mother  died  to-day  of  a  pleurisy 
which  none  could  help.  I  had  not  even  the  conso 
lation  to  hear  her  speak,  since,  when  I  came  from 
Holland,  she  was  wandering  in  talk  of  thee,  and 
mostly  in  French,  which  I  know  not.  I  seek  to  find 
God's  meaning  in  this  chastisement.  As  yet  I  find 
it  not.  It  is  well  that  we  should  not  let  bereave 
ments  so  overcome  us  as  to  make  us  neglect  to  be 
fervent  in  the  business  of  life,  or  to  cease  to  praise 
Him  who  has  seen  fit  to  take  away  from  us  that 
which  it  may  be  we  worshipped  as  an  idol.  What 
more  is  to  say  I  leave  until  I  see  thee.  My  affairs 
are  now  so  ordered  that  I  may  leave  them.  I  shall 
sail  in  a  week  for  home  in  the  ship  in  which  I  came 
out,  and  shall  not  go,  as  I  did  mean,  to  the  islands." 

It  seemed  to  me,  as  I  read  and  re-read  it,  a  cold, 
hard  letter.  I  said  as  much  to  my  aunt  some  days 
after  this ;  but  she  wisely  urged  that  my  father  was 
ever  a  reticent  man,  who  found  it  difficult  to  let  even 
his  dearest  see  the  better  part  of  him. 

I  have  no  mind  to  dwell  on  this  sad  calamity.  I 
went  to  and  fro,  finding  neither  possibility  of  repose 
nor  any  consolation.  I  saw  as  I  rode,  or  lay  in  my 


HUGH  WYNNE  185 

boat,  that  one  dear  face,  its  blue-eyed  tenderness,  its 
smile  of  love.  I  could  never  thus  recall  to  sight  any 
other  of  those  who,  in  after-years,  have  left  me  j  but 
this  one  face  is  here  to-day  as  I  write,  forever  smiling 
and  forever  young. 

And  so  time  ran  on,  and  nigh  to  Christmas  day 
my  father  came  home.  The  weather  was  more  mild 
than  common,  and  his  ship  met  no  delay  from  ice.  I 
joined  him  off  Chester  Creek.  He  was  grayer,  older, 
I  thought,  but  not  otherwise  altered,  having  still  his 
erect  stature,  and  the  trick  I  have  myself  of  throw 
ing  his  head  up  and  his  shoulders  back  when  about 
to  meet  some  emergent  occasion.  I  saw  no  sign  of 
emotion  when  we  met,  except  that  he  opened  and  shut 
his  hands  as  usual  when  disturbed.  He  asked  if  I 
were  well,  and  of  my  Aunt  Gainor,  and  then,  amid 
the  tears  which  were  choking  me,  if  I  were  satisfied 
as  to  the  business,  and  if  the  tea  had  arrived.  I 
said  yes,  and  that  the  ship  had  been  sent  away  with 
out  violence.  He  said  it  was  a  silly  business,  and 
the  king  would  soon  end  it  •  he  himself  had  been  too 
hasty— with  more  to  like  effect. 

It  seemed  to  me  while  we  talked  as  though  he  had  just 
come  from  my  mother's  death-bed,  whereas  a  longtime 
had  elapsed,  and  he  had  been  able  to  get  over  the  first 
cruel  shock.  My  own  grief  was  still  upon  me,  and  I 
wondered  at  his  tranquillity.  A  little  later  he  said : 

"  I  see  thou  hast  taken  to  the  foolishness  of  black 
garments.  This  is  thy  aunt's  doings."  In  fact,  it  was 
her  positive  wish.  I  made  no  reply,  but  only  looked 
him  in  the  face,  ready  to  cry  like  a  child. 


186  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  Why  hast  thou  no  answers,  Hugh  ?  Thy  tongue 
used  to  be  ready  enough.  Thou  hast  thy  mother's 
eyes.  I  would  thou  hadst  them  not." 

This  was  as  near  as  he  ever  came  to  speech  of 
her,  whom,  to  my  amazement,  he  never  again  men 
tioned.  Was  it  a  deeper  feeling  than  I  knew,  that  so 
silenced  him,  or  did  he  wish  to  forget  her  ?  I  know 
not.  Some  deal  thus  with  their  dead.  He  bade  my 
aunt  take  away  my  mother's  clothes,  and  asked  no 
questions  as  to  how  she  disposed  of  them  j  nor  for  a 
month  did  he  desire  my  return  home. 

What  then  passed  between  him  and  my  Aunt 
Grainor  I  do  not  know ;  but  he  said  nothing  more  of 
my  dress,  although  I  wore  mourning  for  six  months. 
Nor  did  he  say  a  word  as  to  my  exactness  and  indus 
try,  which  was  honestly  all  they  should  have  been.  At 
meals  he  spoke  rarely,  and  then  of  affairs,  or  to 
blame  me  for  faults  not  mine,  or  to  speak  with  cold 
sarcasm  of  my  friends. 

Except  for  Jack,  and  my  Aunt  Gainor,  and  Wilson 
and  Wetherill,  of  whom  I  saw  much,  I  should  have 
been  miserable  indeed.  Captain  Wynne  still  came 
and  went,  and  his  strange  intimacy  with  my  father 
continued.  I  thought  little  of  it  then,  and  for  my 
own  part  I  liked  to  hear  of  his  adventurous  life,  but 
the  man  less  and  less;  and  so  the  winter  of  '73  and 
'74  went  by  with  fencing  and  skating  and  books, 
which  now  I  myself  ordered  to  suit  me,  or  found  in 
Mr.  Logan's  great  library,  of  which  I  was  made  free. 

In  March  my  cousin  left  us  for  Canada  and  the 
army.  Once  I  spoke  before  him  of  the  news  in  my 


HUGH  WYNNE  187 

mother's  postscript;  but  he  laughed,  saying  he  had 
heard  some  such  rumours,  but  that  they  were  not 
true.  They  did  not  much  trouble  a  hungry  beggar 
of  a  younger  son  with  letters;  still  if  there  had 
been  such  good  news  he  should  have  heard  it.  He 
wished  it  might  be  so  j  and  as  to  his  brother,  poor 
devil !  he  would  last  long  enough  to  marry  and  have 
children.  Were  the  ducks  still  in  the  river?  He 
said  no  more  to  me  of  Darthea,  or  of  what  I  was  to  do 
for  him,  but  he  found  a  way  at  need,  I  am  sure,  to  get 
letters  to  her,  and  that  without  difficulty.  At  last, 
as  I  have  said,  he  was  gone  to  join  Sir  Guy.  I  was 
not  sorry. 

Mrs.  Peniston,  Darthea's  aunt,  usually  talked  lit 
tle,  and  then  of  serious  matters  as  if  they  were 
trivial,  and  of  these  latter  as  if  they  were  of  the 
utmost  importance.  With  regard  to  this  matter  of 
Darthea  and  my  cousin,  she  was  free  of  speech  and 
incessant,  so  that  all  the  town  was  soon  assured  of  the 
great  match  Darthea  would  make.  The  fine  house 
at  Wyncote  grew,  and  the  estate  also.  Neither  Jack 
nor  I  liked  all  this,  and  my  friend  took  it  sadly  to 
heart,  to  ray  Aunt  Gainer's  amusement  and  Mrs. 
Ferguson's,  who  would  have  Dr.  Rush  set  up  a  ward 
in  the  new  hospital  for  the  broken-hearted  lovers  of 
Darthea,  When  first  Jack  Warder  was  thus  badg 
ered,  he  fell  into  such  a  state  of  terror  as  to  what  the 
madcap  woman  would  say  next  that  he  declined  all 
society  for  a  week,  and  ever  after  detested  the  Tory 
lady. 

I  became,  under  the  influence  of  thismuch-talked-of 


188  HUGH  WYNNE 

news,  as  mute  as  Jack ;  but,  while  he  had  only  a  deep 
desire  toward  sadness,  and  to  stay  away  from  her 
who  had  thus  defeated  his  love,  I,  neither  given  over 
to  despair  nor  hope,  had  only  a  fierce  will  to  have 
my  way ;  nor,  for  some  reason  or  for  none,  did  I  con 
sider  Jack's  case  as  very  serious,— my  aunt  it  much 
amused,— so  little  do  we  know  those  who  are  most 
near  to  us. 

No  sooner  was  the  redcoat  lover  gone  awhile 
than,  as  Miss  Chew  declared,  Darthea  put  off  mourn 
ing  for  the  absent.  Indeed,  the  pretty  kitten  began 
once  more  to  tangle  the  threads  of  Jack's  life  and 
mine.  For  a  month  Jack  was  in  favour,  and  then 
a  certain  captain,  but  never  I,  until  one  day  late  in 
April.  She  was  waiting  among  my  aunt's  china  for 
her  return,  and  had  set  the  goggle-eyed  mandarin  to 
nodding,  while,  with  eyes  as  wide  as  his,  she  nodded 
in  reply,  and  laughed  like  a  merry  child. 

I  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  watched  this  delicious 
creature  for  a  minute  while  she  amused  herself — and 
me  also,  although  she  knew  it  not.  "  Say  No !  "  she 
cried  out  to  the  great  china  nobleman  5  quite  a  foot 
high  he  was.  But,  despite  her  pretence  at  altering 
his  unvaried  affirmative,  it  still  went  on.  My  lady 
walked  all  around  him,  and  presently  said  aloud : 
"No !  no  !  It  must  be  No  !  Say  No  !  "  stamping  a 
foot,  as  if  angry,  and  then  of  a  sudden  running  up 
to  the  mandarin  and  laughing.  "  He  has  a  crack  in 
his  head.  That  is  why  he  says  Yes !  Yes  !  I  must  be 
a  female  mandarin,  and  that  is  why  I  say  No  !  No !  I 
wonder  does  he  talk  broken  China  ? " 


HUGH  WYNNE  189 

At  this  moment  she  saw  my  tall  black  figure  in  a 
corner  mirror,  and  made  some  exclamation,  as  if 
startled ;  an  instant  later  she  knew  it  was  I,  but 
as  if  by  magic  the  laughing  woman  was  no  longer 
there.  What  I  saw  as  she  came  toward  me  was  a 
slight,  quiet  nun  with  eyes  full  of  tears. 

I  was  used  to  her  swift  changes  of  mood,  but  what 
her  words,  or  some  of  them,  meant  I  knew  not  j  and 
as  for  this  pitying  face,  with  its  sudden  sadness, 
what  more  did  it  mean  ?  Major  Andre  said  of  her 
later  that  Mistress  Darthea  was  like  a  lake  in  the 
hills,  reflecting  all  things,  and  yet  herself  after  all. 
But  how  many  such  tricksy  ways,  pretty  or  vexing, 
she  was  to  show  some  of  us  in  the  years  to  come  did 
not  yet  appear. 

In  a  moment  I  seemed  to  see  before  me  the  small 
dark  child  I  first  knew  at  school.  Why  was  she  now 
so  curiously  perturbed  ?  "  Mr.  Wynne/7  she  said, 
"  you  never  come  near  me  now— oh,  not  for  a  month  ! 
And  to-day  your  aunt  has  shown  me  a  part  of  the 
dear  mother's  letter,  and— and— I  am  so  sorry  for 
you !  I  am  indeed  !  I  have  long  wanted  to  say  so. 
I  wish  I  could  help  you.  I  do  not  think  you  forget 
easily,  and — and — you  were  so  good  to  me  when  I 
was  an  ugly  little  brat.  I  think  your  mother  loved 
me.  That  is  a  thing  to  make  one  think  better  of 
one's  self.  I  need  it,  sir.  It  is  a  pretty  sort  of 
vanity,  and  how  vain  you  must  be,  who  had  so  much 
of  her  love  !  n 

"  I  thank  thee,"  I  said  simply.  Indeed,  for  a  time 
I  was  so  moved  that  say  more  I  could  not.  "  I  thank 


190  HUGH   WYNNE 

thee,  Miss  Peniston.  There  is  no  one  on  earth  whom 
I  would  rather  hear  say  what  thou  hast  said." 

I  saw  her  colour  a  little,  and  she  replied  quickly,  "  I 
am  only  a  child,  and  I  say  what  comes  to  my  lips  j  I 
might  better  it  often  if  I  stayed  to  think." 

"  No ! "  I  cried.  Whenever  she  got  into  trouble— 
and  she  was  ready  to  note  the  tenderness  in  my 
voice— this  pretty  pretext  of  the  irresponsibility  of 
childhood  would  serve  her  turn.  "  No,"  said  I ;  "  I 
like  dearly  to  hear  my  mother  praised,— who  could 
praise  her  too  much? — but  when  it  is  thou  who 
sayest  of  her  such  true  things,  how  shall  I  tell  thee 
what  it  is  to  me  who  love  to  hear  thee  talk— even 
nonsense  ? " 

" I  talk  nonsense ?     Do  If" 

"Yes,  sometimes.  I— want  thee  to  listen  to  me. 
I  have  cared  for  thee— 

"  Now  please  don't,  Mr.  Wynne.  They  all  do  it, 
and — I  like  you.  I  want  to  keep  some  friends." 

"  It  is  useless,  Darthea.  I  am  so  made  that  I  must 
say  my  say.  Thou  mayest  try  to  escape,  and  hate  it 
and  me,  but  I  have  to  say  I  love  thee.  No,  I  am  not 
a  boy.  I  am  a  man,  and  I  won't  let  thee  answer  me 
now." 

"  I  do  not  want  to.  It  would  hurt  you.  You  must 
know ;  every  one  knows.  It  was  his  fault  and  my 
aunt's,  all  this  gossip.  I  would  have  kept  it  quiet." 

"  It  will  never  be,"  I  broke  out.  "  Thou  wilt  never 
marry  that  man ! "  I  knew  when  I  said  this  that 
I  had  made  a  mistake.  I  had  learned  to  distrust 
Arthur ;  but  I  had  too  little  that  was  of  moment  to 


HUGH  WYNNE  191 

say  against  him  to  make  it  wise  to  speak  as  I  had 
done.  I  was  young  in  those  days,  and  hasty. 

"  Who  ?  "  says  my  lady,  all  on  fire.  "  What  man  ? 
Jack  Warder  ?  And  why  not  ?  I  do  not  know  what 
I  shall  do." 

"  It  is  not  my  dear  Jack,"  I  cried.  "  Why  dost  thou 
trifle  with  me  ? " 

"  Your  dear  Jack,  indeed  !  How  he  blushes  !  I 
might  ask  him.  He  never  would  have  the  courage.7' 

"It  is  my  cousin,  Arthur  Wynne,  as  thou  well 
knowest.  And  thou  art  wicked  to  mock  at  an  honest 
gentleman  with  thy  light  talk.  Thou  dost  not  know 
the  man,  this  man,  my  cousin." 

"  Only  a  boy  would  be  so  foolish  or  so  unfair  as  to 
speak  thus  of  one  behind  his  back,  and  to  a  woman 
too,  who—"  And  she  paused,  confused  and  angry. 

I  could  not  tell  her  what  was  only  suspicion  or 
hearsay  as  to  my  cousin's  double  statements  concern 
ing  his  father's  estate,  or  how  either  she  or  we  were 
deceived.  I  had,  in  fact,  lost  my  head  a  little,  and 
had  gone  further  than  was  wise.  I  would  not  explain , 
and  I  was  too  vexed  to  say  more  than  that  I  would 
say  the  same  to  his  face.  Then  she  rejoined  softly : 

•'Tell  it  to  me.  You  are  as  mysterious  as  Miss 
Wynne ;  and  have  I  not  a  right  to  know  ?  n 

"  No,"  I  said ;  "  not  now,  at  least.  Thou  mayest 
tell  him  if  thou  wilt." 

"  If  I  will,  indeed !  Every  one  is  against  him — you 
and  Mistress  Wynne  and  that  impudent  boy,  Jack 
Warder,  despite  his  blushes.  Oh,  he  can  be  bold 
enoiigh.  Isn't  he  a  dear  fellow?" 


192  HUGH  WYNNE 

How  could  one  deal  with  a  woman  like  this?  I 
hesitated,  and  as  I  did  so,  not  having  ready  anything 
but  sad  reproaches  of  her  levity,  my  aunt  appeared 
in  the  doorway. 

"  Are  you  two  children  quarrelling  ? "  she  said,  in 
her  outspoken  way.  "You  will  have  time  to  repent. 
Here  has  been  your  father,  sir,  to-day,  and  his  affairs 
in  Jamaica  are  all  in  a  nice  pickle,  and  you  and  the 
old  clerk  are  to  up  and  away  in  the  packet  for  Kings 
ton,  and  that  to-morrow." 

"  Indeed !  "  I  cried.     I  was  not  sorry. 

"  I  envy  you,"  said  my  lady,  as  demure  as  you 
please.  "  You  will  fetch  me  a  feather  fan,  and  come 
back  soon.  I  hate  all  those  cornets  and  captains,  and 
now  I  shall  have  no  one  but  Jack." 

My  aunt  looked  on  amused.  Her  news  was  true 
indeed,  and  with  no  chance  to  talk  to  any  one,  except 
to  say  a  mere  good-by  to  Jack,  I  spent  the  evening 
with  my  father  and  our  head  clerk  over  the  business 
which  took  me  away  so  hastily.  At  early  morning 
on  a  cold  day  at  the  close  of  April,  1774,  we  were 
gliding  down  the  Delaware  with  all  sail  set. 

The  voyage  was  long,  the  winds  contrary.  I  had 
ample  leisure  to  reflect  upon  my  talk  with  Darthea. 
I  was  sure  she  must  have  known  she  was  to  me  not 
as  other  women.  Except  for  the  accident  of  this 
chance  encounter,  I  might  long  have  waited  before 
finding  courage  to  speak.  I  had  made  nothing  by  it, 
had  scarce  had  an  answer,  and  should,  like  enough, 
have  fallen  back  into  the  coldness  of  relation,  by 
which  she  had  so  long  kept  me  at  a  distance.  J  had 


HUGH  WYNNE  193 

been  foolish  and  hasty  to  speak  of  my  cousin  at  all  j 
it  did  but  vex  her. 

Of  my  errand  in  Jamaica  there  is  little  to  be  said. 
My  father's  letters  were  of  business  only.  Of  these 
long  months  and  of  what  went  on  at  home  I  heard 
but  little  from  him,  and  with  my  request  to  have  the 
gazettes  he  had  evidently  no  mind  to  comply;  nor 
were  the  chances  of  letters  frequent.  I  heard,  indeed, 
from  my  aunt  but  twice,  and  from  Jack  thrice ;  but 
he  said  nothing  of  Darthea.  Years  after  I  found  in 
his  record  of  events : 

"  Hugh  left  us  the  last  of  April.  It  may  be  he 
cares  too  much  for  that  wayward  witch,  Darthea." 

I  should  say  that  it  was  at  this  time  or  soon  after 
my  dear  friend  began  to  keep  a  somewhat  broken 
diary  of  events.  What  he  says  of  former  years  was 
put  on  paper  long  afterward. 

"  If  I  did  but  know/'  writes  Jack,  "  that  he  is  se 
riously  taken,  I  should  understand,  alas !  what  not 
to  do.  But  as  to  some  things  Hugh  is  a  silent  man. 
I  think,  as  Mr.  Wilson  says,  some  men  are  made  for 
friends,  and  some  for  lovers.  I  fear  the  latter  is  not 
my  role.  Is  there— can  there  be —such  a  thing  as 
revering  a  woman  too  much  to  make  successful  love  f 
I  think  I  see  what  Darthea  is  more  truly  than  does 
my  dear  Hugh.  There  must  come  a  day  when  she 
will  show  it.  Sometimes  I  can  hardly  trust  myself 
with  her ;  and  I  yearn  to  tell  her  that  I  alone  know 
her,  and  that  I  love  her.  I  must  watch  mj^self .  If 
it  really  be  that  Hugh  cares  for  her,  and  yet  I  were 
to  be  the  fortunate  man,  how  could  I  face  him  again, 

13 


194  HUGH  WYNNE 

having  had  the  advantage  of  his  long  absence  ?  It 
seems  strange  that  I  should  ask  myself  if  I  am  more 
her  lover  than  his  friend.  He  does  not  talk  of  her 
to  me. 

"It  is  now  September,  '74,  and  Hugh  must  soon 
return.  Mr.  Gage  is  fortifying  Boston  Neck,  and 
we  have  had  the  mischievous  Boston  Port  Bill, 
and  Virginia  up  in  a  rage,  which  I  do  not  under 
stand.  We,  who  have  our  commerce  crippled  by 
foolish  laws,  may  well  be  on  the  side  of  resistance ; 
but  why  the  planters  should  put  in  peril  their  only 
tobacco  market  I  see  less  well.  A  Continental  Con 
gress  is  to  meet  here  on  the  fifth  day  of  this  month, 
and  already  the  town  is  alive  with  gentlemen  from 
the  South  and  North. 

"No  doubt  Darthea  has  letters  from  Mr.  Arthur 
Wynne.  I  think  Mr.  Wilson  judges  that  man  cor 
rectly.  He  says  he  is  selfish,  and  more  weak  as  to 
morals  than  really  bad,  and  that  he  will  be  apt  to 
yield  to  sudden  temptation  rather  than  to  plan  de 
liberate  wickedness.  Why  should  he  have  need 
to  plan  at  all?  Mistress  Wynne  says  he  does  not 
like  Hugh.  How  could  any  not  like  my  Hugh,  and 
how  do  women  see  the  things  which  we  do  not  ? 

"  It  is  sad  to  see  my  father's  state  of  mind.  Yes 
terday  he  was  with  me  to  visit  Mr.  Hancock,  very 
fine  in  a  purple  velvet  coat  with  gold  buttons,  and 
a  flowered  waistcoat.  He  is  our  correspondent  in 
Boston.  My  father  came  home  a  hot  Whig  j  and  to 
morrow  is  Meeting-day,  and  he  will  be  most  melan 
choly,  and  all  for  the  king  if  this  and  that  should 


HUGH  WYNNE  195 

happen.  John  Wynne  can  turn  him  which  way  he 
likes.  If  my  Hugh  remains  of  a  Whig  mind— and 
who  less  like  to  change  ?— he  will  have  a  hot  time 
with  his  father,  I  fear." 

Is  it  any  wonder  I,  his  friend,  loved  this  man? 
He  seemed  so  gentle  that  all  but  I,  even  James 
Wilson,  misunderstood  him.  No  more  obstinate  fel 
low  ever  was  or  will  be.  I  ought  to  say  "  determined," 
for  there  was  always  a  reason  of  head  or  heart  for 
what  he  would  or  would  not  do,  and  I  really  think 
that  in  all  his  noble  life  he  had  but  one  hour  of 
weakness,  of  which  by  and  by  I  may  have  to  tell. 


XIII 

WAS  to  have  come  home  earlier,  but  in 
June  I  got  letters  from  my  father  in 
structing  me  to  await  a  vessel  which 
would  reach  Jamaica  in  June,  and  sail 
thence  to  Madeira.  There  were  careful 
instructions  given  as  to  purchase  of  wines,  and  the 
collection  of  delayed  payments  for  staves,  in  the 
wine  islands. 

I  did  not  like  it,  but  I  was  young,  and  to  travel 
had  its  charm  after  all.  Had  there  been  no  Darthea, 
I  had  been  altogether  pleased.  The  excuse  of  this 
new  business  made  me  smile.  It  was  clear  my  father 
was  using  that  pretext  to  keep  me  out  of  the  mischief 
which  was  involving  most  young  men  of  courage,  and 
creating  in  them  a  desire  to  train  as  soldiers  in  the 
organisations  which  were  everywhere  being  formed. 
He  was  unwise  enough  to  say  that  my  cousin,  from 
whom  he  had  heard,  sent  his  love,  and  was  glad  I 
was  out  of  our  disloyal  and  uneasy  country. 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  and  thus  it  chanced  that 
not  until  September  did  I  see  the  red  brick  houses  of 
my  native  city.  Late  news  I  had  almost  none,  for 
none  reached  me,  and  I  was  become  wild  with  desire 
to  learn  what  the  summer  months  had  brought  forth. 
196 


HUGH  WYNNE  197 

On  the  fifth  day  of  September,  1774,  at  seven  in 
the  morning,  I  saw  my  Jack  in  a  boat  come  out  to 
meet  me  as  we  came  to  anchor  in  the  stream.  He 
looked  brown  and  handsome,  reddening  with  joy  as 
he  made  me  welcome.  All  were  well,  he  said.  I  did 
not  ask  for  Darthea. 

My  father  was  on  the  slip,  and  told  me  that  business 
might  wait  until  the  evening.  My  aunt  had  not  been 
well,  and  would  see  me  at  once.  This  really  was  all, 
and  I  might  have  been  any  one  but  his  son  for  what 
there  was  in  his  mode  of  meeting  me.  I  walked  with 
Jack  to  my  Aunt  Gainor's,  where  he  left  me.  I  was 
pleased  to  see  the  dear  lady  at  her  breakfast,  in  a  white 
gown  with  frills  and  a  lace  tucker,  with  a  queen's 
nightcap  such  as  Lady  Washington  wore  when  I  first 
saw  her.  Mistress  Wynne  looked  a  great  figure  in 
white,  and  fell  on  my  neck  and  kissed  me ;  and  I  must 
sit  down,  and  here  were  coffee  and  hot  girdle-cakes 
and  blueberries,  and  what  not.  Did  I  like  Jamaica  ? 
And  had  I  fetched  some  fans  ?  She  must  have  her 
choice  j  and  rum,  she  hoped,  I  had  not  forgot.  How 
well  I  looked,  and  my  eyes  were  bluer  than  ever ! 
Was  it  the  sea  had  got  into  them?  and  so  on. 

I  asked  about  the  Congress,  and  she  was  off  in  a 
moment.  Mr.  John  Adams  had  been  to  see  her,  and 
that  cat,  Bessy  Ferguson,  had  been  rude  to  him.  An 
ill-dressed  man,  but  clear  of  head  and  very  positive  ; 
and  the  members  from  Virginia  she  liked  better. 
Mr.  Peyton  Randolph  had  called ;  and  I  would  like 
Mr.  Pendleton;  he  had  most  delightful  manners. 
Mr.  Livingston  had  been  good  enough  to  remember 


198  HUGH  WYNNE 

me,  and  had  asked  for  me.  He  thought  we  must 
soon  choose  a  general,  and  Mr.  Washington  had  been 
talked  of. 

"Has  it  come  to  that?"  said  I. 

"Yes;  all  the  North  is  up,  and  Gage  has  more 
troops  and  is  at  work  intrenching  himself,  he  who  was 
to  settle  us  with  three  regiments.  Mrs.  Chew  was 
here,  and  behaved  like  the  lady  she  is.  But  they  are 
all  in  a  nice  mess,  Master  Hugh,  and  know  not  what 
to  do.  I  hate  these  moderates.  Mr.  Washington  is 
a  man  as  big  as  your  father,  and  better  builded.  I 
like  him,  although  he  says  little  and  did  not  so  much 
as  smile  at  Bessy  Ferguson's  nonsense.  And  Dar- 
thea— you  do  not  ask  about  Darthea.  She  is  play 
ing  the  mischief  with  Jack  and  her  captain.  She 
will  not  let  me  talk  about  him.  He  is  in  Boston  with 
Mr.  Gage,  I  hear.  Why  don't  you  tell  me  about 
yourself  ? " 

"How  could  I,  Aunt  Gainor?  Thou—"  and  I 
laughed. 

Then  she  became  grave.  "  You  will  have  to  declare 
yourself  and  take  sides ;  and  how  can  I  counsel  you 
to  resist  your  father  ?  You  must  think  it  over  and 
talk  to  Mr.  Wilson.  He  is  of  the  Congress.  Poor 
Mr.  Wetherill  the  Meeting  has  a  mind  to  bounce, 
and  he  takes  it  hard.  Come  back  at  eleven,  and 
we  will  go  to  Chestnut  street,  where  they  meet, 
and  see  the  gentlemen  go  into  the  Carpenters'  Hall. 
I  came  to  town  on  purpose.  And  now  go;  I  must 
dress." 

At  half -past  ten— my  aunt  very  splendid— we  drove 


HUGH  WYNNE  199 

down  Second  street  and  np  Chestnut,  where  was  a 
great  crowd  come  to  look  on.  Dr.  Rush,  seeing  my 
aunt's  chariot,  got  in  at  Second  street,  and,  being  one 
of  the  members,  enabled  us  to  get  near  to  Carpenters' 
Alley,  where  at  the  far  end,  back  from  the  street,  is 
the  old  building  in  which  the  Congress  was  to  be  held. 
Jack  met  us  here,  and  got  up  beside  the  coachman. 
I  think  none  had  a  better  view  than  we.  Andrew 
Allen  came  to  speak  to  us,  and  then  Mr.  Galloway, 
not  yet  scared  by  the  extreme  measures  of  which  few 
as  yet  dreamed,  and  which  by  and  by  drove  these  and 
many  other  gentlemen  into  open  declarations  for  the 
crown. 

I  saw  James  Pemberton  looking  on  sadly,  and 
near  him  other  Friends  with  sour  aspects.  Here  and 
there  militia  uniforms  were  seen  amid  the  dull  grays, 
the  smocks  of  farmers  and  mechanics,  and  the  sober 
suits  of  tradesmen,  all  come  to  see. 

"  The  Rev.  Dr.  Duche  passed  us,"  says  Jack,  whom 
now  I  quote,  "in  a  fine  wig  and  black  silk  small 
clothes.  He  was  to  make  this  day  the  famous  prayer 
which  so  moved  Mr.  Adams."  And  later,  I  may 
add,  he  went  over  to  the  other  side.  "  Soon  others 
came.  Some  we  knew  not,  but  the  great  Dr.  Rush 
pointed  out  such  as  were  of  his  acquaintance. 

it  i  There/  he  said,  l  is  Carter  Braxton.  He  tells 
me  he  does  not  like  the  New  England  men— either 
their  religion  or  their  manners;  and  I  like  them 
both.'  The  doctor  was  cynical,  I  thought,  but  very 
interesting.  I  set  down  but  little  of  what  he  said 
or  I  saw  j  for  most  of  it  I  forget. 


200  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  '  There  is  the  great  Virginia  orator,  Mr.  Patrick 
Henry/  said  the  doctor.  He  was  in  simple  dress, 
and  looked  up  at  us  curiously  as  he  went  by  with 
Pendleton  and  Mr.  Carroll.  '  He  has  a  great  estate 
—Mr.  Carroll/  said  the  doctor.  'I  wonder  he  will 
risk  it.'  He  was  dressed  in  brown  silk  breeches,  with 
a  yellow  figured  waistcoat,  and,  like  many  of  them, 
wore  his  sword.  Mr.  Franklin  was  not  yet  come 
home,  and  some  were  late. 

"  Presently  the  doctor  called,  and  a  man  in  the 
military  dress  of  the  Virginia  militia  turned  toward 
us.  'Colonel  Washington,'  said  our  doctor,  'will 
permit  me  to  present  him  to  a  lady,  a  great  friend 
of  liberty.  Mistress  "Wynne,  Colonel  Washington.' 

"  1 1  have  already  had  the  honour/  he  said,  taking 
off  his  hat— a  scrolled  beaver. 

"  <  He  is  our  best  soldier,  and  we  are  fortunate  that 
he  is  with  us/  said  the  doctor,  as  the  colonel  moved 
away." 

The  doctor  changed  his  mind  later,  and  helped,  I 
fear,  to  make  the  trouble  which  came  near  to  cost 
ing  Conway  his  life.  I  have  always  been  a  great 
admirer  of  fine  men,  and  as  the  Virginia  colonel 
moved  like  Saul  above  the  crowd,  an  erect,  well-pro 
portioned  figure,  he  looked  taller  than  he  really  was. 
Nor  was  he,  as  my  aunt  had  said,  nearly  of  the  big 
ness  of  my  father. 

"  He  has  a  good  nose,"  said  my  Aunt  Gainor,  per 
haps  conscious  of  her  own  possessions  in  the  way 
of  a  nasal  organ,  and  liking  to  see  it  as  notable  in 
another  j  "  but  how  sedate  he  is  !  I  find  Mr.  Peyton 


HUGH  WYNNE  201 

Randolph  more  agreeable,  and  there  is  Mr.  Robert 
Morris  and  John  Dickinson." 

Then  the  lean  form  of  Mr.  Jefferson  went  by, 
a  little  bent,  deep  in  talk  with  Roger  Sherman, 
whom  I  thought  shabbily  dressed  ;  and  behind  them 
Robert  Livingston,  whom  my  aunt  knew.  Thus  it 
was,  as  I  am  glad  to  remember,  that  I  beheld  these 
men  who  were  to  be  the  makers  of  an  empire. 
Perhaps  no  wiser  group  of  people  ever  met  for  a 
greater  fate,  and  surely  the  hand  of  God  was  seen 
in  the  matter ;  for  what  other  colony—  Canada,  for 
example— had  such  men  to  show  ?  There,  meanwhile, 
was  England,  with  its  great  nobles  and  free  commons 
and  a  splendid  story  of  hard-won  freedom,  driving 
madly  on  its  way  of  folly  and  defeat. 

Of  what  went  on  within  the  hall  we  heard  little. 
A  declaration  of  rights  was  set  forth,  committees  of 
correspondence  appointed,  and  addresses  issued  to  the 
king  and  people  of  Great  Britain.  Congress  broke 
up,  and  the  winter  went  by;  Gage  was  superseded 
by  Sir  William  Howe ;  Clinton  and  Burgoyne  were 
sent  out,  and  ten  thousand  men  were  ordered  to 
America  to  aid  the  purposes  of  the  king. 

The  cold  season  was  soon  upon  us,  and  the  event 
ful  year  of  '75  came  in  with  a  great  fall  of  snow,  but 
with  no  great  change  for  me  and  those  I  loved.  A 
sullen  rage  possessed  the  colonies,  and  especially  Mas 
sachusetts,  where  the  Regulation  Acts  were  quietly 
disregarded.  No  counsellors  or  jurymen  would  serve 
under  the  king's  commission.  The  old  muskets  of 
the  French  and  Indian  wars  were  taken  from  the 


202  HUGH  WYNNE 

corners  and  put  in  order.     Men  drilled,  and  women 
cast  bullets. 

Failing  to  corrupt  Samuel  Adams  and  Hancock, 
Gage  resolved  to  arrest  them  at  Concord  and  to  seize 
on  the  stores  of  powder  and  ball.  "  The  heads  of  trai 
tors  will  soon  decorate  Temple  Bar,"  said  a  London 
gazette;  and  so  the  march  of  events  went  on.  In 
the  early  spring  Dr.  Franklin  came  home  in  despair 
of  accommodation  ;  he  saw  nothing  now  to  do  but  to 
fight,  and  this  he  told  us  plainly.  His  very  words 
were  in  my  mind  on  the  night  of  April  23d  of  this 
year  of  '75,  as  I  was  slowly  and  thoughtfully  walk 
ing  over  the  bridge  where  Walnut  crossed  the  Dock 
Creek,  and  where  I  stayed  for  a  moment  to  strike  flint 
and  steel  in  order  to  light  my  pipe.  Of  a  sudden  I 
heard  a  dull  but  increasing  noise  to  north,  and  then 
the  strong  voice  of  the  bell  in  the  state-house.  It  was 
not  ringing  for  fire.  Somewhat  puzzled,  I  walked 
swiftly  to  Second  street,  where  were  men  and  wo 
men  in  groups.  I  stopped  a  man  and  asked  what 
had  chanced.  He  said,'  "A  battle!  a  battle!  and. 
General  Gage  killed."  Couriers  had  reached  the 
coffee-houses,  but  no  one  on  the  street  seemed  to 
have  more  than  this  vague  information;  all  were 
going  toward  Chestnut  street,  where  a  meeting  was 
to  be  held,  as  I  learned,  and  perhaps  fuller  news 
given  out. 

I  pushed  on,  still  hearing  the  brazen  clamour  of  the 
bell.  As  I  crossed  High  street  I  came  upon  James 
Wilson  and  Mr.  Graydon.  They  stopped  me  to  tell 
of  the  great  tidings  just  come  by  swift  post-riders 


HUGH  WYNNE  203 

of  the  fight  at  Lexington.  After  giving  me  the  full 
details,  Wilson  left  us.  Said  Graydon,  very  serious : 
"  Mr.  Wynne,  how  long  are  you  to  be  in  deciding  ? 
Come  and  join  Mr.  Cadwalader's  troop.  Few  of  us 
ride  as  well  as  you." 

I  said  I  had  been  thinking. 

"  Oh,  confound  your  thinkings  !  It  is  action  now. 
Let  the  bigwigs  think." 

I  could  not  tell  a  man  I  then  knew  but  slightly 
how  immense  was  my  reluctance  to  make  this  com 
plete  break  with  the  creed  of  my  father,  and  to  abso 
lutely  disobey  him,  as  I  knew  I  must  do  if  I  followed 
my  inclinations  ;  nor  did  I  incline  to  speak  of  such 
.  other  difficulties  as  still  kept  me  undecided.  I  said 
at  last  that  if  I  took  up  arms  it  would  be  with  Mac- 
pherson  or  Cowperthwaite's  Quakers. 

"  Why  not  ? "  he  said.  "  But,  by  George  !  man,  do 
something !  There  are,  I  hear,  many  Friends  among 
the  Cowperthwaite  Blues.  Do  they  give  orders  with 
1  thou '  and  ' thee/  I  wonder  ?  " 

«  I  laughed,  and  hurried  away.  The  town  was  al 
ready  in  a  state  of  vast  excitement,  women  in  tears, 
and  men  stopping  even  those  they  did  not  know  to  ask 
for  news.  I  ran  all  the  way  to  my  aunt's,  eager  to 
tell  it.  In  the  hall  I  stood  a  minute  to  get  my  breath, 
and  reflect.  I  knew  full  well,  as  I  recognised  vari 
ous  voices,  that  my  intelligence  would  mean  tears 
for  some,  and  joy  for  others. 

My  long-taught  Quaker  self-control  often  served 
me  as  well  as  the  practised  calm  I  observed  to  be  the 
expression  assumed  by  the  best-bred  officers  of  the 


204  HUGH  WYNNE 

army  on  occasions  that  caused  visible  emotion  in 
others.  I  went  in  quietly,  seeing  a  well-amused  party 
of  dames  and  younger  folk,  with,  over  against  the 
chimneypiece,  the  great  Benjamin  Franklin,  now  in 
the  full  prime  of  varied  usefulness,  a  benevolent  face, 
and  above  it  the  great  dome  of  head,  which  had  to  me 
even  then  a  certain  grandeur.  He  was  talking  eagerly 
with  Mistress  Wynne— two  striking  figures. 

Mr.  Galloway  was  in  chat  with  his  kinsman,  Mr. 
Chew.  The  younger  women,  in  a  group,  were  mak 
ing  themselves  merry  with  my  friend  Jack,  who  was 
a  bit  awkward  in  a  fine  suit  I  had  plagued  him  into 
buying.  And  what  a  beauty  he  was,  as  he  stood, 
half  pleased  with  the  teasing,  blushing  now  and  then, 
and  fencing  prettily  in  talk,  as  I  knew  by  the  laugh 
ter  !  At  the  tables  the  elder  women  were  gambling, 
and  intent  on  their  little  gains  and  losses,  while  the 
vast  play  of  a  nobler  game  was  going  on  in  the 
greater  world  of  men. 

To  my  surprise,  I  saw  among  the  guests  an  Eng 
lish  lieutenant.  I  say  "  to  my  surprise,"  for  the  other 
officers  had  gone  of  their  own  accord,  or  had  been 
ordered  to  leave  by  the  Committee  of  Safety.  This 
one,  and  another,  were,  as  I  learned  afterward,  on 
their  way  through  the  town  to  join  General  Gage. 
There  was  evidently  some  dispute  as  to  the  cards. 
I  heard  high-pitched  voices,  and  "  spadille,"  "  basto," 
"matador"— all  the  queer  words  of  quadrille,  their 
favoured  game. 

The  lieutenant  was  bending  over  Mrs.  Ferguson's 
chair.  He  was  a  fellow  I  had  seen  before  and  never 


HUGH  WYNNE  205 

liked,  a  vulgar-featured  man,  too  fat  for  his  years, 
which  may  have  been  some  twenty-eight.  He  played 
the  best  hand  of  all  of  them,  and,  as  my  aunt  de 
clared,  that  was  quite  enough ;  for  the  rest  she  could 
keep  any  man  in  order.  I  held  back  in  the  gloom 
of  the  hall,  looking  at  their  busy  gaiety,  and  wonder 
ing  what  they  would  say  to  my  news. 

As  I  went  in  I  heard  Woodville,  the  lieutenant,  say, 
"  The  king— play  the  king,  Mrs.  Ferguson." 

"  No  advice  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Galloway. 

"  But  I  am  betting,"  said  he.  "  The  king  forever ! 
We  have  won,  madam.  The  king  is  always  in  luck." 

I  could  not  resist  saying, "  The  king  has  lost,  ladies." 

My  aunt  turned,  and  knew  I  meant  something.  I 
suppose  my  face  may  have  been  more  grave  than  my 
words.  "  What  is  it,  Hugh  1 " 

"  I  have  strange  news,  Aunt  Gainor." 

"  News  ?  and  what  ? "  As  she  spoke  the  talk  ceased, 
and  every  one  looked  up. 

"  There  has  been  a  fight  at  Lexington.  Major  Pit- 
cairn  is  beat,  and  my  Lord  Percy.  The  farmers  were 
all  up  to  hinder  them  as  they  were  on  their  way  to 
seize  our  powder,  and  to  take  Mr.  Hancock.  The 
king  has  lost  some  three  hundred  men,  and  we  under 
a  hundred." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  said  Mr.  Galloway.  "  But  it 
cannot  be  true." 

A  pause  came  after,  as  I  said  there  was  no  doubt 
of  it. 

Dr.  Franklin  asked  if  I  was  sure.  I  said,  "  Yes ; 
I  have  it  of  James  Wilson,  and  the  town  is  already 


206  HUGH  WYNNE 

in  an  uproar  over  it."  The  great  philosopher  re 
mained  deep  in  thought  a  moment,  while  the  women 
sat  or  stood  in  fear,  or  whispering  excitement.  At 
last  he  said  he  must  go,  and  that  it  was  the  beginning 
of  war,  and  welcome  too.  Then  he  bowed  gravely 
and  went  out.  As  he  left,  the  stillness  which  had 
prevailed  for  a  time  was  broken. 

A  dozen  questions  fell  on  me  from  all  sides.  I 
could  only  repeat  my  story,  as  Jack  went  by  me  to 
go  out  and  hear,  if  possible,  more  of  the  news  than  I 
had  to  tell. 

At  last  Mr.  Chew  said  thoughtfully,  "  If  it  be  true, 
it  is  a  sad  business ;  but,  really,  how  can  it  be,  Hugh  ? 
How  could  a  lot  of  farmers,  without  good  arms  and 
discipline,  put  to  rout  a  body  of  trained  men,  well 
armed  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Galloway,  "  we  shall  have  quite 
another  version  to-morrow.  How  does  it  strike  you, 
Mr.  Woodville?" 

"  Oh,  quite  absurd,"  said  the  officer.  "  You  may 
reassure  yourselves,  ladies  j  such  a  loss,  too,  would  be 
incredible,  even  in  regular  war.  I  think  we  may  go 
on  with  our  game,  Mrs.  Ferguson."  He  was  very 
pompous,  but  none  seemed  inclined  to  take  his  advice. 

"  And  yet  I  don't  like  it,"  said  a  lady  of  the  Tory 
side. 

"  And  I  do,"  said  Mistress  Wynne.  "  It  is  as  good 
news  as  I  have  heard  this  many  a  day." 

"  It  is  nonsense  !  "  said  the  officer ;  "  sheer  non 
sense  !  You  have  strange  notions,  madam,  as  to 
what  is  good  news.  It  is  only  another  rebel  lie." 


HUGH  WYNNE  207 

"  I  think  not/'  said  I,  venturing  to  add  that  men 
who  could  kill  squirrels  would  rarely  miss  a  man, 
and  that  many  of  the  older  farmers  had  fought  In 
dians  and  French,  and  had,  I  suspected,  picked  off 
the  officers. 

"  How  horrid !  "  said  Darthea. 

Had  a  stray  bullet  found  my  cousin  I  should  not 
have  grieved  profoundly. 

"You  see  where  all  your  neutrality  and  loyalty 
have  brought  you/'  said  Mistress  Wynne.  "  I  wish 
King  George  were  with  Mr.  Gage ;  he  might  learn 
wisdom.  'T  is  but  the  beginning  of  a  good  end." 

"  May  I  remind  you/7  said  Woodville,  very  red  in 
the  face,  "that  I  am  his  Majesty's  officer?" 

"  No,  you  may  not  remind  me.  A  fig  for  his  Maj 
esty  !  "  cried  my  aunt,  now  in  one  of  her  tantrums. 

"  Shame  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Ferguson,  rising,  as  did  the 
rest,  some  in  tears  and  some  saying  Mrs.  Ferguson 
was  right,  or  the  Lord  knows  what— not  at  all  a 
pleasant  scene;  the  men  very  silent,  or  vexed,  or 
troubled. 

My  Aunt  Gainor,  as  they  filed  out,  made  them 
each  her  finest  curtsey.  Darthea  stood  still,  looking 
grave  enough.  Mr.  Woodville,  the  lieutenant,  lin 
gered,  made  his  adieus  very  decently,  and  went  out, 
I  showing  him  the  way.  On  the  step  he  said :  "  I 
do  not  quarrel  with  women ;  but  I  have  heard  that 
in  Mistress  Wynne's  house,  to  which,  as  an  officer 
of  his  Majesty,  I  cannot  submit." 

"Well!"  I  said;  and  my  abominable  propensity 
to  grin  got  the  better  of  me. 


208  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  You  seem  amused,  sir,"  he  said. 

I  was  by  no  means  amused. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  responsible/7  lie  added.  "  Miss 
Wynne  might  have  better  manners,  and  her  nephew 
more  courage.  However,  I  have  said  what  ought  tjp 
be  enough  with  English  gentlemen.  Good-evening." 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  give  thee  a  good  honest 
thrashing/7  said  I. 

"  I  dare  say.  You  are  big  enough,  Master  Quaker  • 
but  I  presume  that  about  the  weapons  common  among 
men  of  honour  you  know  as  much  as  I  know  of 
making  horseshoes." 

I  was  now  cool  enough  and  angry  enough  to  have 
killed  him.  "  Thy  friend  can  find  me  here/7  said  I. 
"  I  trust  I  shall  be  able  to  satisfy  thee.77 

With  this  he  went  away,  and  I  stood  looking  after 
his  stumpy  figure.  I  was  again  in  a  broil,  not  of  my 
making ;  just  a  bit  of  ill  luck,  for  here  was  a  nice 
business.  I  went  in,  and  was  caught  on  my  way 
upstairs  by  my  Aunt  Gainor,  who  called  me  into 
the  sitting-room. 

Still  too  furious  to  be  prudent,  she  broke  out  be 
fore  Darthea.  "  Insolent  idiots  !  I  hope  I  made  Mr. 
Galloway  understand,  and  the  rest  of  them  too !  I 
trust  Bessy  Ferguson  will  never  darken  my  doors 
again ! 77  She  walked  up  and  down,  and  at  last  up 
set  the  big  mandarin,  who  came  head  down  on  the 
hearth. 

"  I  wish  he  were  Mr.  Gage ! 77  said  my  aunt,  con 
templating  the  fragments. 

"I  dare  say  he  was  a  Tory/7  says  Darthea,  who 


HUGH  WYNNE  209 

feared  no  one.    "  And  I  am  a  Tory  too,  Miss  Wynne, 
I  would  have  you  to  know." 

"  I  dare  say/'  said  my  aunt  j  "  it  does  n't  matter 
much  what  you  think,  or  what  you  are.  You  had 
some  words  with  that  stupid  man,  sir ;  I  saw  you.  He 
looked  as  if  he  did  not  like  it.  Oh,  I  heard  you,  too." 

I  vainly  shook  my  head  at  her. 

"  Are  you  two  going  to  fight  ?  I  am  not  sorry ! 
I  wish  I  could  have  that  cat  Ferguson  out." 

"  I  hope— oh— I  am  sure,  Mr.  Wynne,  it  cannot  be. 
How  dreadful !  n  said  Darthea. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  my  aunt.  "  A  man  cannot 
stand  everything  like  a  woman." 

I  said  plainly,  seeing  how  vain  my  aunt  had  made 
concealment,  that  there  had  been  some  words,  but 
that  I  trusted  no  harm  would  come  of  it. 

"  But  there  will !  there  will !  "  said  Miss  Peniston. 

"  Mercy  upon  us !  "  cried  my  aunt ;  for  here  was 
Darthea  on  the  floor,  and  burnt  feathers  and  vinegar 
at  hand,  servants  running  about,  my  aunt  ordering 
"  Cut  her  stay-strings  !  "  as  I  was  turned  out,  hearing 
my  aunt  declare,  "  I  do  believe  she  is  in  love  with  all 
the  men.  Is  it  you  or  the  captain  ?  What  a  shame 
less  monkey  to  tumble  all  of  a  heap  that  way !  It  is 
hardly  decent.  Do  go  away,  you  goose !  'T  is  a  way 
she  has  Did  never  you  see  a  woman  faint  ?  " 

I  never  did,  and  I  was  scared  faint  myself.  What 
between  Darthea's  fainting  spell,  and  this  quarrel  not 
of  my  seeking,  I  was  uncomfortable  enough.  I  had 
no  one  but  Jack  to  appeal  to ;  and  here  was  a  pair 
of  Quaker  lads,  just  over  twenty-two,  in  a  proper 

14 


210  HUGH  WYNNE 

scrape.  I  had  not  the  least  intention  of  getting  out 
of  it,  save  in  one  way.  The  sneer  at  my  aunt  was 
more  than  I  could  endure.  What  my  father  would 
think  was  another  matter. 

Mr.  Wilson  used  to  say :  "  When  you  are  in  difficul 
ties  dispose  of  the  worst  first ;"  and  so  I  resolved,  as  I 
must  fight  the  man,  and  that  was  the  imminent  matter, 
to  set  aside  all  thought  of  my  parent,  until  I  was  done 
with  Mr.  Woodville.  Jack  I  took  for  granted,  and 
so  left  a  note  with  the  servant  asking  my  opponent's 
friend  to  call  on  Jack  at  an  hour  when  he  was  like 
to  be  alone.  Before  I  could  leave  to  warn  him  of 
what  was  on  hand  my  aunt  came  to  me. 

"  I  sent  that  girl  home  in  the  chaise.  It  was  her 
fear  lest  some  one  may  be  hurt,  but  she  really  has 
no  excuse.  She  talked  quite  wild  as  she  came  to— 
I  mean  of  you  and  Arthur  Wynne— just  mere  babble. 
And,  O  Hugh  !  I  am  a  drivelling  old  maid,  and  have 
taught  you  all  manner  of  nonsense,  and  now  I  have 
got  you  into  trouble.  Don't  let  him  kill  you,  Hugh. 
Cannot  it  be  stopped?  I  told  Darthea  to  hold  her 
tongue,  and  I  am  so  miserable,  Hugh ;  and  when  I 
think  of  your  dead  mother,  and  all  I  promised,  what 
shall  I  do  ? "  And  the  kind  old  lady  penitently  wept 
over  me,  as  if  I  were  run  through  already. 

I  felt,  as  you  may  imagine,  the  embarrassment  and 
doubt  a  young  man  feels  when  about  to  protest  by 
a  single  act  against  the  creed  of  conduct  which  he 
has  been  taught  to  follow  since  he  could  remember. 
I  smiled,  too,  as  I  recalled  our  first  school  duel,  and 
how  Jack  and  I  ran  away. 


HUGH  WYNNE  211 

My  aunt,  seeing  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
done,  and  having  said  quite  enough,  retired,  I  am 
sure  to  pray  for  me,  and  for  herself  as  the  main  cause 
of  my  coming  risk.  She  would  have  liked  to  see  me 
well  out  of  the  affair,  but  I  do  believe  would  not  have 
had  me  excuse  myself  to  my  lieutenant,  let  what 
might  occur.  Indeed,  she  did  her  best  to  keep  Miss 
Darthea  from  betraying  what,  but  for  my  aunt's  rash 
outburst,  would  not  have  gone  beyond  those  imme 
diately  concerned. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  I  found  Jack 
writing  in  his  father's  house.  I  must  have  looked 
grave,  for  he  rose  quickly  and,  coming  to  meet  me, 
set  a  hand  on  each  of  my  shoulders— a  way  he  had, 
but  only  with  me. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  he  said ;  "  not  the  news  ? " 

"  No."  In  fact,  it  had  clean  gone  out  of  my  mind. 
"  I  have  had  trouble  with  Mr.  Woodville,  and  now 
I  must  fight  him."  And  on  this  I  related  the  whole 
adventure,  Jack  listening  intently. 

"  Thou  shouldst  have  an  older  man  than  I,  Hugh. 
These  affairs  may  often  be  mended,  I  learn,  without 
coming  to  violence."  He  seemed  a  little  embarrassed, 
and  reddened,  hesitating  as  he  spoke,  so  that,  stupidly 
not  comprehending  him  as  I  should  have  done,  I  said 
hastily  that  the  man  had  insulted  my  aunt,  and  that 
there  was  but  one  way  out  of  it,  but  that  I  could 
try  to  get  some  one  else,  if  to  act  as  my  friend  was 
not  to  his  taste. 

"At  this  time,"  he  writes,  "when  Hugh  came  so 
near  to  hurting  me,  I  was  really  going  through  in 


212  HUGH  WYNNE 

my  mind  what  he  had  already  disposed  of  in  his.  At 
Pike's  we  heard  of  nothing  but  duels.  I  had  long 
been  Pike's  pupil.  The  duel  had  come  to  seem  to  us, 
I  fear,  the  natural  and  inevitable  ending  of  a  quar 
rel.  Such  was  the  belief  of  my  good  friend  Mistress 
Wynne's  set,  and  of  the  officers  whose  opinions  as  to 
social  matters  we  had  learned  to  regard  as  final. 

"And  yet  the  absurdity  of  two  Quaker  lads  so 
trapped  struck  me  as  it  did  not  Hugh.  The  man 
must  surely  have  thought  him  older  than  he  was,  but 
so  did  most.  I  feared  that  I  should  not  do  my  friend 
j  ustice  j  and  then  I  thought  of  dear  Mistress  Gainor, 
whom  I  now  loved,  and  for  whom  to  lose  Hugh 
would  be  as  death  in  life  j  and  so,  quickly  turning  it 
over  for  one  mad  moment,  I  wondered  if  I  could 
not  someway  get  this  quarrel  on  to  my  own  shoul 
ders.  When  I  answered  Hugh  I  must  have  made  him 
misunderstand  me,  or  so  I  think  from  what  he  said. 
When  he  exclaimed  he  could  get  some  one  else,  I 
made  haste  to  put  myself  right.  We  had  little  time, 
however,  to  discuss  the  matter,  for  at  this  moment 
came  a  Captain  Le  Clere  with  Hugh's  note. 

"Hugh  was  now  in  one  of  his  quiet,  smiling 
moods,  when  from  his  face  you  would  have  said 
there  was  some  jest  or  wager  in  question,  and  from 
his  talk,  which  had  a  kind  of  intensity  of  distinct 
articulation,  that  it  was,  as  I  thought  it,  most  serious. 
He  was  coldly  civil  to  Mr.  Le  Clere,  and  to  me  apart 
said,  l  Small  swords,  and  the  governor's  woods  by 
the  spring/  as  if  he  were  arranging  a  quite  familiar 
and  every-day  affair. 


HUGH  WYNNE  213 

"  I  frankly  declared  that  I  was  new  to  an  office  of 
this  kind,  and  must  trust  to  Mr.  Le  Clere's  honour 
and  courtesy.  He  seemed  pleased  at  this,  and  thought 
a  pity  of  so  young  a  man  to  have  such  a  difficulty, 
expressing  his  hopes  of  accommodation,  which  I 
knew  Hugh  too  well  to  think  possible. 

"  As  soon  as  we  had  arranged  the  needed  prelimi 
naries,  and  Mr.  Le  Clere  had  gone,  I  went  to  borrow 
small  swords  of  Pike,  arranging  to  come  for  them 
after  dark.  Duels  were  common  enough  even  in  our 
Quaker  town,  especially  among  gentlemen  of  his 
Majesty's  service.  Although  illegal,  so  strongly  was 
it  felt  that  for  certain  offences  there  was  no  other 
remedy  possible,  that  it  was  difficult  to  escape  the 
resort  to  weapons  if  those  involved  were  of  what  we 
who  are  of  it  like  to  call  the  better  class. 

"At  daybreak  Hugh  and  I  were  waiting  in  the 
woods  where— near  to  what  Mr.  Penn  meant  as  a 
public  square,  a  little  east  of  Schuylkill-Eighth 
street— was  an  open  space,  once  a  clearing,  but  now 
disused,  and  much  overgrown.  We  were  first  on  the 
ground,  and  I  took  occasion  to  tell  Hugh  of  Pike's 
counsels— for  he  had  at  once  guessed  what  we  were 
about— to  watch  his  opponent's  eyes,  and  the  like. 
Hugh,  who  was  merry,  and  had  put  aside  such 
thoughts  of  the  future  as  were  troubling  me,  de 
clared  that  it  was  the  mouth  a  man  should  watch, 
which  I  think  is  the  better  opinion.  I  said,  of  course, 
nothing  of  what  Pike  told  me  as  to  Mr.  Woodville 
being  a  first-rate  player,  and  only  advised  my  friend 
to  be  cautious. 


214  HUGH  WYNNE 

"Mr.  Woodville,  who  came  with  Le  Clere  and 
a  surgeon,  was  a  short  lump  of  a  man,  and  an 
odd  contrast  to  his  friend,  who  was  long  and  lank. 
The  pair  of  them  looked  like  Don  Quixote  and  his 
squire.  The  short  man  I  felt  quite  confident  Hugh 
could  handle,  and  was  surprised,  seeing  his  build, 
that  Pike  should  have  declared  him  a  good  blade. 
Mr.  Le  Clere  was  very  civil,  and  I  followed  his  di 
rections,  knowing,  as  I  have  said,  but  little  of  such 
affairs. 

"  Our  men  being  stripped  to  the  shirt,  and  ready, 
Mr.  Le  Clere  and  I  drew  away  some  twenty  feet. 
Then,  to  my  surprise,  the  lean  officer  said  to  me, 
1  Mr.  Warder,  shall  I  have  the  honour  to  amuse  you 
with  a  turn  ?  Here  are  our  own  swords  of  a  length, 
as  you  see.' 

"  I  was  anything  rather  than  amused.  I  had  heard 
of  this  foolish  English  custom  of  the  friends  also  en 
gaging.  I  knew  that  it  was  usual  to  make  the  offer, 
and  that  it  was  not  needful  to  accept  j  but  now,  as  I 
saw  my  Hugh  standing  ready  with  his  sword  upon 
the  ground,  I  began  to  shake  all  over,  and  to  colour. 
Such  hath  always  been  my  habit  when  in  danger, 
even  from  my  boyhood.  It  is  not  because  I  am 
afraid.  Yet,  as  it  seems  to  another  like  fear,  to  feel 
it  sets  me  in  a  cold  rage,  and  has  many  times,  as  on 
this  occasion,  led  me  into  extremes  of  rashness. 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Le  Clere  saw  my  condition,  and 
unhappily  let  loose  on  his  face  a  faint  smile.  'At 
your  service/  I  said,  and  cast  off  my  coat. 

"  '  It  is  not  necessary,  sir/  he  replied,  a  bit  ashamed 


HUGH  WYNNE  215 

to  engage  a  fellow  like  me,  who  shook  and  blushed, 
and  looked  to  be  about  seventeen. 

"  '  We  are  losing  time/  said  I,  in  a  fury,  not  over- 
sorry  to  be  thus  or  in  any  way  distracted  from  Hugh's 
peril.  In  truth,  I  need  have  had  small  fear  for  him. 
For  two  years  Hugh  and  I  had  fenced  almost  daily, 
and  what  with  Pike  and  Arthur  Wynne,  knew  most 
of  the  tricks  of  the  small  sword. 

"The  next  moment  Le  Clere  cried,  'On  guard, 
gentlemen ! '  and  I  heard  the  click  of  the  blades 
as  they  met.  I  had  my  hands  full,  and  was  soon 
aware  of  Le  Clere's  skill.  I  was,  however,  as  agile 
as  a  cat,  and  he  less  clever  with  his  legs  than  his 
arm.  Nor  do  I  think  he  desired  to  make  the  affair 
serious.  In  a  few  minutes— it  seemed  longer— I 
heard  an  oath,  and,  alarmed  for  Hugh,  cast  a  glance 
in  his  direction.  I  saw  his  foe  fall  back,  his  sword 
flying  some  feet  away.  My  indiscretion  gave  my 
man  his  chance.  His  blade  caught  in  my  rolled- 
up  sleeve,  bent,  and,  as  I  drove  my  own  through  his 
shoulder,  passed  clean  through  the  left  side  of  my 
neck.  With  a  great  jet  of  blood,  I  fell,  and  for  a 
little  knew  no  more." 

This  account  from  Jack's  journal  is  a  better  state 
ment  of  this  sad  business  than  I  could  have  set  down. 
I  saw  with  horror  Jack  and  Le  Clere  salute,  and  then 
was  too  full  of  business  to  see  more,  until  I  had  dis 
armed  Mr.  Woodville,  badly  woiinding  his  sword- 
hand,  a  rare  accident.  And  here  was  my  Jack 
dead,  as  I  thought.  I  think  I  can  never  forget 
that  scene ;  Mr.  Le  Clere,  gaunt  and  thin,  lifting  his 


216  HUGH  WYNNE 

late  foe,  the  surgeon  kneeling  and  busy,  my  own 
man  hot  and  wrathful,  cursing  like  mad,  and  wrap 
ping  his  hand  about  with  a  handkerchief,  clearly  in 
pain,  and  I  waiting  for  the  word  of  death  or  life. 

At  last  the  doctor  said,  "  It  is  bad— bad,  but  not 
fatal.  How  came  it,  Le  Clere  ?  You  told  me  that 
neither  you  nor  Mr.  Woodville  meant  anything 
serious." 

I  was  kneeling  by  Jack,  and  .was  not  intended  to 
hear  what  all  were  too  hot  and  excited  to  guard  by 
bated  breath. 

"  Damn  it,  doctor  !  "  returned  Le  Clere.  "  It  is  no 
use  to  talk.  I  never  imagined  that  youngster  would 
take  me  at  my  word." 

"  You  will  be  in  hot  water  here,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  I  would  advise  you  to  get  away,  and  soon." 

"And  we  shall  supply  amusement  to  every  mess 
in  the  army,"  said  Woodville,  with  an  abundance  of 
bad  language.  "  Quakers  indeed !  " 

Jack's  eyes  opened,  and  he  said,  "Thou  art  not 
hurt,  Hugh?" 

"  No,  no  !  n  I  answered,  and,  relieved  a  little,  turned 
to  Mr.  Le  Clere :  "  We  shall,  I  fear,  have  to  ask  thy 
chaise  of  thee.  We  came  afoot,  I  will  send  it  back 
at  once." 

Le  Clere  said,  "  Of  course ;  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Thou  wilt  pardon  me,"  said  I,  "  if  I  advise  thee 
to  accept  the  doctor's  advice,  and  get  away  with  all 
speed.  I  should  be  sorry  if  thou  wert  arrested.  The 
feeling  against  gentlemen  of  thy  profession  is  un 
happily  strong  just  now." 


HUGH  WYNNE 

Le  Clere  looked  me  over  with  a  quick  glance  of 
something  like  curiosity,  and  said,  as  he  gave  his 
hand,  "You  are  a  gallant  gentleman,  Mr. Wynne. 
You  will  permit  an  older  man  to  say  so.  I  trust  we 
may  meet  again.  Are  all  Quakers  as  clever  at  sword- 
play?" 

I  said  a  civil  word,  seeing  Jack  smile  as  he  lay 
with  iny  bloody  coat  under  his  head.  Then,  as  I  re 
membered  that  perhaps  Mr.  Woodville  might  not  be 
satisfied,  I  went  up  to  him  and  said,  "I  am  at  thy 
service,  sir,  if  thou  art  not  contented  to  let  us  be  quit 
of  this  matter." 

"It  must  needs  rest  now,"  he 'replied.  "Damn 
your  tricks ! " 

"  Sir !  "  said  I. 

"  Holloa !  "  says  Le  Clere  j  "  this  won't  do.  Keep 
your  temper.  This  way,  Mr.  Wynne."  And  he  drew 
me  aside. 

It  was  full  time ;  I  was  beginning  to  get  my  blood 
up,  and  was  in  a  rage. 

"  This  comes,"  he  said,  "  of  going  out  with  a  fellow 
that  has  risen  from  the  ranks.  Why  do  your  ladies 
receive  every  one  who  wears  a  red  coat?  Let  me 
help  you  with  your  friend.  I  am  most  sorry.  For 
my  share,  I  have  a  neat  reminder  in  the  shoulder. 
Mr.  Warder  has  the  wrist  of  a  blacksmith"— which 
was  true,  and  for  good  reason. 

There  is  no  need  to  tell  of  the  wrath  and  incapacity 
of  poor  Jack's  father.  I  got  away  as  soon  as  Dr. 
Rush  arrived,  and,  promising  to  return  in  an  hour, 
went  off  with  a  smile  from  my  Jack,  and  a  "  Thank 


218  HUGH  WYNNE 

God !  Hugh,  that  it  was  not  thou  who  had  the  worst 
of  it." 

It  was  about  seven  as  I  knocked  at  my  aunt's 
door,  and,  passing  the  black  page,  ran  upstairs. 
My  aunt  was  in  the  breakfast-room;  she  came  to 
meet  me  in  a  morning  gown,  and  to  my  astonishment 
was  very  tranquil,  but  with  eyes  that  looked  anxious, 
and  far  more  red  than  common. 

"  Sit  down,  sir.  I  want  to  hear  about  this  ridicu 
lous  business." 

"  It  may  seem  so  to  thee,"  said  I  •  "  I  am  glad  if  it 
amuses  thee." 

"Stuff!  Talk  decent  English,  man.  That  was 
like  your  father.  Is— are  you— is  any  one  hurt?" 

I  said  that  was  what  we  went  for,  and  so  told  her 
the  whole  sorry  business. 

"  And  it  was  for  me,  sir !  "  she  cried ;  "  for  me  ! 
And  my  dear  brave  girl-boy !  Is  it  dangerous  ? " 

I  hoped  not.  We  had  both  left  our  marks  on  the 
English  officers.  That  she  liked.  Then  she  was  silent 
awhile. 

"  Here  is  come  a  note  from  the  kitten.  Will  you 
have  it  ?  It  may  be  all  you  will  ever  get  of  her.  She 
says  she  has  held  her  tongue ;  I  can't— I  don't  believe 
her— and  asks  me  to  let  her  know  if  any  are  hurt. 
I  will.  Does  she  suppose  gentlemen  go  out  just  to 
look  at  one  another  ?  Ridiculous  !  " 

I  spoke  at  last  of  my  father;  of  how  he  would 
take  this  matter,  of  his  increasing  acerbity,  and  of 
my  own  unhappy  life,  where  I  found  nothing  to  re 
place  my  mother's  love.  My  last  disaster  and  poor 


HUGH  WYNNE  219 

Jack's  wound  seemed  like  enough  to  widen  the  gap 
between  me  and  my  parent,  and  my  Aunt  Gainor 
was  troubled. 

"  You  must  be  first  to  tell  him/'  said  my  aunt.  "  I 
think  he  will  say  but  little.  He  has  given  you  up 
as  a  sheep  lost  in  the  darkness  of  iniquity,  and  too 
black  to  be  found  easily." 

I  begged  her  not  to  jest.  I  was  sore  and  sick  at 
heart. 

"  Eat  your  breakfast/'  she  said,  "  and  get  it  over 
with  your  father." 

I  hurried  through  the  meal,  and  went  upstairs, 
to  find  my  sleeve  full  of  blood,  although  no  harm 
had  been  done  but  what  was  easily  set  right  by  what 
Dr.  Rush  called  a  bit  of  diachylon  plaster.  (I  think 
I  spell  it  correctly.) 

As  I  went  by  Darthea's  home  I  cast  a  glance  up 
at  the  open  window,  and  saw  my  lady  looking  out. 
She  was  pale,  and  as  she  called  to  me  I  could  not 
but  go  in,  for,  indeed,  she  ran  herself  to  open  the 
door. 

"  Come  in  !  Oh,  just  a  moment !  "  she  cried.  "  Your 
aunt  has  written  me  a  note,  and  it  tells  me  almost 
nothing— nothing." 

I  was  in  no  very  kindly  humour  with  MissDa-rthea. 
Since  our  talk  about  my  cousin  she  had  been  very 
high  and  mighty,  and  would  have  little  to  say  to  me 
except  unpleasant  things  about  the  angry  politics  of 
the  day.  I  said  I  was  glad  to  have  heard  she  had 
told  no  one  of  what  my  aunt's  rash  speech  had  let 
slip.  I  had  better  have  held  my  own  tongue.  Darthea 


220  HUGH  WYNNE 

was  in  another  mood  to-day,  and  all  at  once  became 
quiet  and  dignified. 

"  I  gave  my  word,  Mr.  Wynne.  When  you  know 
me  better  you  will  learn  that  I  can  keep  it.  Is— is 
Mr.  Warder  much  hurt  ? " 

"  Yes/7 1  said  ;  "  he  is  in  great  peril."  I  saw  how 
anxious  she  was,  and  was  vexed  enough  to  want  to 
hurt  her. 

"  Oh,  you  men  !  you  men  !  "  she  cried.  "Will  he 
die,  do  you  think  ?  Poor  boy !  "  She  sat  down  and 
began  to  cry.  "  He  must  not  die ;  why  did  you  lead 
him  into  such  wicked  trouble  ? " 

It  was  vain  to  explain  how  little  I  had  to  do  with 
the  matter.  Did  she  love  Jack?  I  little  knew  in 
those  days  how  tender  was  this  gentle  heart,  how  it 
went  out,  tendril-like,  seeking  it  knew  not  what,  and 
was  for  this  reason  ever  liable  to  say  too  much,  and 
to  give  rise  to  misapprehension. 

"  O  Darthea !  "  I  cried.  "  Dost  thou  love  my  Jack  ? 
I  shall  be  the  last  to  come  in  his  way.  I  have  said 
I  love  thee  myself,  and  I  can  never  change.  But 
how  can  it  be  ?  how  can  it  be  ?  And  my  cousin  ?  O 
Darthea ! " 

"  I  love  no  one,  sir.  I  love  everybody.  I— I  think 
you  are  impertinent,  Mr.  Wynne.  Is  it  your  business 
whom  I  love  ?  My  God !  there  is  blood  on  your  hand  ! 
Are  you  hurt  ? " 

It  was  true  j  a  little  blood  was  trickling  down  my 
wrist.  She  was  all  tenderness  again.  I  must  not  go ; 
here  was  her  handkerchief  5  and  so  on— till  I  longed 
to  take  her  in  my  arms,  she  made  me  so  sorry  for  her. 


HUGH  WYNNE  221 

I  said  it  was  of  no  moment,  and  I  must  go. 

"  You  will  come  soon  again,  and  tell  me  about  Jack." 

I  went  away,  not  wondering  that  all  the  world 
should  love  her. 

I  hastened  to  Jack's  home,  and  there  found  Dr. 
Eush  and  Dr.  Glentworth,  who  was  later  to  be  the 
physician  of  Mr.  Washington.  My  aunt,  preceding 
me,  had  taken  possession.  Mr.  Warder  was  re 
duced  to  a  condition  of  abject  obedience,  and  for  a 
month  and  more  my  aunt  hardly  left  her  girl-boy's 
pillow.  Indeed,  it  was  long  before  I  was  let  to  see 
him,  and  then  he  was  but  a  spectre  of  himself,  with 
not  enough  blood  to  blush  with.  Our  officers  very 
promptly  left  for  New  York  the  day  after  our  fight, 
and  we  heard  no  more  of  them. 

It  would  have  been  of  little  use  to  tell  this  long 
story  but  for  the  consequences  to  me  and  to  others. 
I  should  have  done  well  to  see  my  father  at  once  j 
but  I  could  not  get  away,  and  sat  till  noon,  asking 
every  now  and  then  what  I  could  do,  and  if  Jack 
were  better,  despite  the  fact  that  I  was  told  he  was 
doing  well. 

Mr.  Warder  was  one  of  those  people  who,  once  a 
crisis  seems  over,  must  still  be  doing  something,  and 
to  be  rid  of  him  he  was  sent  by  my  aunt  to  get 
certain  articles  the  doctors  did  or  did  not  need. 
It  seemed  wise  to  this  gentleman,  having  completed 
his  errands,  to  pay  a  visit  of  condolence  to  my  father, 
and  thus  it  was  that  greater  mischief  was  made. 

About  two  I  got  away,  and  set  forth  to  see  my  par 
ent.  Already  the  news  was  out,  and  I  was  stopped 


222  HUGH  WYNNE 

over  and  over  to  explain  what  had  happened.  It  was 
the  hour  of  dinner;  for  Friends  dined  at  two,  but 
my  aunt  and  the  gayer  set  at  four. 

My  father  turned  from  his  meal,  and  coldly  looked 
me  all  over,— my  arm  was  in  a  sling,  on  which  Dr. 
Rush  had  insisted,— and  last  into  my  eyes.  "  Well," 
he  said,  "  thou  art  come  at  last.  Fortunately,  Friend 
Warder  has  been  here,  and  I  know  thy  story  and  the 
mischief  into  which  thou  hast  led  his  poor  lad.  It  is 
time  we  had  a  settlement,  thou  and  I.  Hast  thou  fear 
neither  of  God  nor  of  man  ?  A  rebellious  son,  and 
a  defier  of  authority !  It  is  well  thy  mother  is  dead 
before  she  saw  thee  come  to  this  ruin  of  soul  and 
body." 

"My  God  !  father,"  I  cried;  "how  canst  thou 
hurt  me  thus !  I  am  in  sorrow  for  Jack,  and  want 
help.  To  whom  should  I  go  but  to  thee  ?  O  mother, 
mother !  "  I  looked  around  at  the  bare  walls,  and 
down  at  the  sanded  floor,  and  could  only  bury  my 
face  in  my  hands  and  weep  like  a  baby.  What  with 
all  the  day  had  brought,  and  Darthea  and  Jack,  and 
now  this  grand  old  man  silent,  impassive,  unmoved 
by  what  was  shaking  me  like  a  storm,— although  I 
loved  him  still  for  all  his  hardness,— I  had  no  refuge 
but  in  tears. 

He  rose,  and  I  sat  still,  thinking  what  I  should  say. 
"When  thou  art  ready  to  turn  from  thy  sin  and  ask 
pardon  of  God  and  of  me,  who  am  brought  to  shame 
on  thy  account,  I  will  talk  with  thee." 

Upon  this  I  set  myself  between  him  and  the  door. 
"  We  cannot  part  this  way.  It  is  too  terrible." 


HUGH  WYNNE  223 

is 

"  That  was  a  matter  thou  hadst  been  wise  to  con 
sider  long  ago,  Hugh." 

"  No ! "  I  cried.  I  was  as  resolved  as  he.  "  I  must 
be  heard.  How  have  I  offended  ?  Have  I  neglected 
thy  business?  who  can  say  so?  I  was  insulted  in 
Meeting,  and  I  went  where  men  do  not  trample  on 
a  penitent  boy,  and  if  I  have  gone  the  way  of  my 
aunt's  world,  is  it  my  fault  or  thine  ?  I  have  gone 
away  from  what,  in  thy  opinion,  is  right  as  regards 
questions  in  which  the  best  and  purest  side  with  me. 
Am  I  a  child,  that  I  may  not  use  my  own  judgment  ? " 
It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  had  plainly 
asserted  my  freedom  to  think  and  to  act. 

To  my  surprise,  he  stood  a  moment  in  silence, 
looking  down,  I  as  quiet,  regarding  him  with  eager 
and  attentive  eyes.  Then  he  said,  seeking  my  gaze, 
"I  am  to  blame;  I  have  too  much  considered  thy 
chances  of  worldly  gain.  I  know  not  whence  thou 
hast  thy  wilfulness."  As  I  looked  in  the  face  of  this 
strong,  rock-like  man,  I  wondered ;  for  he  went  on, 
"Not  from  me,  Hugh,  not  from  me— 

"Stop!"  I  said.  "Thou  hast  said  enough."  I 
feared  lest  again  he  should  reproach  her  of  whose 
sweetness  I  had  naught  but  a  gift  of  the  blue  eyes 
that  must  have  met  his  with  menace.  I  saw,  as  his 
hands  shook,  tapping  the  floor  with  his  cane,  how 
great  were  both  his  anger  and  his  self-control. 

"  It  were  well,  my  son,  that  this  ended.  I  hope 
thou  wilt  see  thy  way  to  better  courses.  Thy  cousin 
was  right.  He,  too,  is  a  man  not  of  my  world,  but 
he  saw  more  clearly  than  I  where  thou  wert  going.'7 


224  HUGH  WYNNE 

"What!"  I  cried,  "and  them  canst  think  this? 
Thou  hast  believed  and  trusted  Arthur  Wynne! 
What  did  he  say  of  me?" 

"  I  will  not  be  questioned." 

"The  man  lied  to  thee,"  I  cried,— "why,  I  do  not 
know,— and  to  others  also.  Why  did  he  deceive  us 
as  to  Wyncote  ?  What  reason  had  he  ?  As  he  lied 
about  that,  so  does  he  seem  to  have  lied  about  'me. 
By  heaven  !  he  shall  answer  me  some  day." 

"I  will  hear  no  profanity  in  my  house.  Stand 
aside !  Dost  thou  not  hear  me  ?  Am  I  to  be  dis 
obeyed  in  my  own  house  ?  " 

I  but  half  took  in  his  meaning,  and  stood  still. 
The  next  moment  he  seized  me  by  the  lapels  of  my 
coat,  and,  spinning  me  round  like  a  child,  pushed  me 
from  him.  I  fell  into  the  great  Penn  chair  he  had 
turned  from  the  table  when  he  rose.  He  threw  open 
the  door,  and  I  saw  him  walk  quickly  down  the  hall 
and  out  into  the  orchard  garden. 

For  a  week  he  did  no  more  than  speak  to  me  a 
word  when  business  made  it  needful,  and  then  the 
monotonous  days  went  on  as  before  in  the  gray, 
dismal  home,  out  of  which  the  light  of  life's  gladness 
departed  when  those  dear  mother-eyes  were  closed 
in  death. 


XIV 

PILE,  throughout  that  sad  summer,  my 
Jack  was  slowly  coming  back  to  health, 
even  the  vast  events  of  the  war  now 
under  way  moved  me  but  little.  My  Aunt 
Gainor  would  think  of  no  one  but  her 
young  Quaker.  Her  house  was  no  longer  gay,  nor 
would  she  go  to  the  country,  until  Mr.  Warder  agreed 
that  she  should  take  Jack  with  us  to  the  Hill  Farm 
house,  where,  in  the  warm  months,  she  moved  among 
her  cattle,  and  fed  the  hens,  and  helped  and  bullied 
every  poor  housewife  far  and  near. 

In  a  bright-tinted  hammock  I  fetched  from  Ma 
deira,  Jack  used  to  lie  under  the  apple-trees  that 
June  and  July,  with  my  aunt  for  company ;  better 
could  hardly  have  been.  When  I  came  from  town 
in  June,  with  news  of  what  the  farmers  and  their 
long  rifles  had  done  at  Bunker  Hill,  it  was  a  little 
too  much  for  Jack's  strength,  and  he  burst  into  tears. 
But  Dr.  Rush  declared  that  self-control  was  an  affair 
of  physical  health,  and  that  he  who  had  too  little 
blood— and  Jack  was  lily-white— could  be  neither 
courageous,  nor  able  to  contain  his  emotions.  I  sup 
pose  it  may  be  true. 

I  went  in  and  out  of  town  daily,  my  father  being 

15  225 


226  HUGH  WYNNE 

unwilling  to  go  to  Merion.  At  times  I  met  James 
"Wilson,  who  was  steadily  urging  me  to  enter  the 
army.  Wetherill  had  scarce  any  other  words  for  me. 
But  my  father,  Jack's  condition,  and  my  aunt's  de 
pending  on  me,  all  stood  in  my  way,  and  I  did  but 
content  myself  with  an  hour's  daily  drill  in  town 
with  others,  who  were  thus  preparing  themselves 
for  active  service. 

We  were  taught,  and  well  too,  by  an  Irish  ser 
geant—I  fear  a  deserter  from  one  of  his  Majesty's  reg 
iments.  As  Jack  got  better,  he  was  eager  to  have 
me  put  him  through  his  facings,  but  before  he  was 
fit  the  summer  was  nigh  over. 

It  had  been  a  time  of  great  anxiety  to  all  men. 
The  Virginia  colonel  was  commander-in-chief  j  a 
motley  army  held  Sir  William  Howe  penned  up  in 
Boston,  and  why  he  so  quietly  accepted  this  sheep- 
like  fate  no  man  of  us  could  comprehend.  My  aunt, 
a  great  letter- writer,  had  many  correspondents,  and 
one  or  two  in  the  camp  at  Cambridge. 

"  My  Virginia  fox-hunter,"  said  my  aunt,  "  is  hav 
ing  evil  days  with  the  New  England  farmers.  He  is 
disposed  to  be  despotic,  says— well,  no  matter  who. 
He  likes  the  whipping-post  too  well,  and  thinks  all 
should,  like  himself,  serve  without  pay.  A  slow  man 
it  is,  but  intelligent/7  says  my  Aunt  Gainor ;  "  sure 
to  get  himself  right,  and  patient  too.  You  will  see, 
Hugh;  he  will  come  slowly  to  understand  these 
people." 

I  smiled  at  the  good  lady's  confidence,  and  yet  she 
was  right.  They  took  him  ill  at  first  in  that  undis- 


HUGH  WYNNE  227 

eiplined  camp,  and  queer  things  were  said  of  him. 
Like  the  rest,  he  was  learning  the  business  of  war, 
and  was  to  commit  many  blunders  and  get  sharp 
lessons  in  this  school  of  the  soldier. 

These  were  everywhere  uneasy  times.  Day  after 
day  we  heard  of  this  one  or  that  one  gone  to  swell 
the  ever-changing  number  of  those  who  beset  Sir 
William.  Gondolas— most  unlike  gondolas  they 
were— were  being  built  in  haste  for  our  own  river 
defence.  Committees,  going  from  house  to  house, 
collected  arms,  tent-stuffs,  kettles,  blankets,  and  what 
not,  for  our  troops.  There  were  noisy  elections,  arrests 
of  Tories  ;  and  in  October  the  death  of  Peyton  Ran 
dolph,  ex-president  of  the  Congress,  and  the  news 
of  the  coming  of  the  Hessian  hirelings.  It  was  a 
season  of  stir,  angry  discussion,  and  stern  waiting 
for  what  was  to  come ;  but  through  it  all  my  Jack 
prospered  mightily  in  health,  so  that  by  September 
20  he  was  fit  to  leave  us. 

I  still  think  pleasantly  of  all  the  pretty  pictures  of 
pale,  fair-haired  Jack  in  the  hammock,  with  Darthea 
reading  to  him,  and  the  Whig  ladies  with  roses  from 
their  gardens,  and  peaches  and  what  not,  all  for  Jack, 
the  hero,  I  being  that  summer  but  a  small  and  alto 
gether  unimportant  personage. 

When  my  Jack  went  home  again,  we  began  at 
once  to  talk  over  our  plans  for  joining  Mr.  Wash 
ington  ;  I  made  sure  that  now  there  was  no  greater 
obstacle  in  my  way  than  my  father's  opinions. 
Alas!  in  November  my  aunt  took  what  Dr.  Rush 
called  a  pernicious  ague,  and,  although  bled  many 


228  HUGH  WYNNE 

times  and  fed  on  Jesuits'  bark,  she  came  near  to  dy 
ing.  In  January  she  was  better,  but  was  become  like 
a  child,  and  depended  upon  me  for  everything.  If  I 
but  spoke  of  my  desire  to  be  in  the  field,  she  would 
fall  to  tears  or  declare  me  ungrateful.  She  was 
morally  weakened  by  her  disease,  and  did  seem  to  have 
changed  as  to  her  character.  I  lamented  to  Jack 
that  it  was  my  fate  to  stay,  and  he  must  go  alone  f- 
I  would  follow  when  I  could. 

It  was  far  into  April  before  my  aunt  was  entirely 
her  old  self,  but  as  early  as  the  close  of  January  she 
had  decided  that  she  was  well,  and  that  to  be  well 
you  must  get  rid  of  doctors.  She  told  the  great 
physician  as  much,  and  he  left  her  in  vast  disgust. 
Society  she  would  now  have  had  for  remedial  dis 
traction,  but  the  war  had  made  of  it  a  dismal  wreck. 
The  Tories  had  been  warned  or  sent  away;  the 
moderates  hardly  fared  better;  and  the  old  gay  set 
was  broken  up.  Nevertheless  it  was  not  until  far 
later,  in  July,  '77,  that  Mr.  Chew,  Mr.  Penn,  and 
other  as  important  neutrals,  were  ordered  to  leave 
the  city  j  until  then  some  remnants  of  the  governor's 
set  kept  up  more  or  less  of  the  pleasant  life  they  had 
once  led.  But  there  were  no  more  redcoats  in  their 
drawing-rooms,  and  our  antagonists  were  of  the  last 
who  had  lingered.  Even  before  their  departure,  any 
gentleman  of  the  king's  service  was  sure  to  be  told 
to  leave,  and  meanwhile  was  apt  to  find  a  militiaman 
at  his  door. 

My  aunt  would  have  none  of  them  that  winter, 
and  her  old  Tory  friends  ceased  to  be  seen  at  her 


HUGH  WYNNE  229 

house,  save  only  Darthea;  whilst  continental  uniforms 
and  gentlemen  of  the  Congress  were  made  warmly 
welcome  j  but  alas !  among  these  was  no  match  for 
her  at  piquet,  and  she  felt  that  no  one  had  sacrificed 
more  for  the  country  than  had  she. 

In  February  of  '76  a  double  change  took  place 
among  us,  and  to  my  great  discontent.  I  had  seen 
much  of  Darthea  in  the  fall  and  early  winter  of  '75, 
and  had  come  to  know  her  better.  She  was  fond  of 
riding  with  my  aunt,  who  had  a  strong  gray  stallion 
full  of  tricks,  but  no  master  of  the  hardy  old  lady, 
whom  neither  horse  nor  man  ever  dismayed.  The 
good  spinster  was  by  no  means  as  vigorous  as  I 
could  have  wished,  but  ride  she  would  on  all  clear 
days  whether  cold  or  not,  and  liked  well  to  have 
Darthea  with  us.  When  ill  she  was  a  docile  patient, 
but,  once  afoot,  declared  all  doctors  fools,  and  would 
have  no  more  of  them  "  and  their  filthy  doses." 

We  rode  of  sunlit  winter  days  out  to  Germantown, 
or  upon  the  wood  roads  over  Schuylkill,  my  Aunt 
Gainor  from  good  nature  being  pleased  to  gallop 
ahead,  and  leave  us  to  chat  and  follow,  or  not,  as 
might  suit  us. 

One  fine  crisp  morning  in  February  we  were 
breasting  at  a  walk  the  slippery  incline  of  Chestnut 
Hill,  when  Darthea,  who  had  been  unusually  silent, 
said  quite  abruptly : 

"  I  am  going  away,  Mr.  Wynne." 

I  was  instantly  troubled.     "  Where  ? "  I  said. 

"Next  week,  and  to  New  York.  My  aunt  can 
no  longer  stand  all  this  mob  of  rebels.  We  go  to 


230  HUGH  WYNNE 

New  York,  and  for  how  long  I  know  not.  Since, 
in  September,  our  friend,  Dr.  John  Kearsley,  was 
mobbed  and  maltreated,  my  aunt  declares  you  unfit 
to  live  among.  I  must  say  I  thought  it  brutal,  sir. 
When  men  of  sense  and  breeding  like  Mr.  Penn, 
Mr.  Chew,  and  Dr.  Kearsley,  cannot  live  unmolested 
it  is  time,  my  aunt  thinks,  to  run." 

"No  one  annoys  Mr.  Penn  or  Mr.  Chew,"  said  I. 
"  To  my  mind,  they  are  neutrals,  and  worse  than 
open  foes ;  but  thy  doctor  is  a  mad  Tory,  and  a 
malignant  talker.  I  saw  the  matter,  and  I  assure 
thee  it  was  overstated.  He  lost  his  temper  j  't  is 
a  brave  gentleman,  and  I  would  he  were  with  us. 
But  now  that  both  sides  are  sure  at  last  that  they 
are  really  at  war,  these  men  who  live  among  us  and 
are  ready  to  welcome  every  redcoat  must  have  their 
lesson.  It  must  be  Yes  or  No,  in  a  war  like  this.'7 

"  But  I  hate  that,"  she  returned  j  "  and  to  be  com 
fortable  and  snug,  and  to  love  ease  and  Madeira  and 
a  quiet  horse,  and  a  book  and  a  pipe  and  a  nap  of 
an  afternoon,  and  then  to  have  certain  of  the  baser 
sort  cry,  l  Get  up  and  kill  somebody  ! '  I  think  I  am 
with  Mr.  Boss,  and  believe  that, l  let  who  will  be  king, 
I  well  know  I  shall  be  subject.'  Imagine  my  Aunt 
Peniston's  fat  poodle  invited  to  choose  between  exile 
and  killing  rats." 

"  My  dear  Darthea,  for  thee  to  preach  caution  and 
neutrality  is  delightful." 

"  Did  it  sound  like  that  Mr.  Congregation  ? " 

"  No  j  to  tell  the  truth,  I  think  it  did  not." 

"  Indeed,  you  are  right,"  says  she.     "  I  am  a  red- 


HUGH  WYNNE  231 

hot  Tory,  sir.  I  scare  Margaret  Chew  out  of  her 
sweet  wits  when  I  talk  blood,  blood,  sir;  and  as  to 
Miss  Franks,— she  hates  to  be  called  Becky,— when  I 
say  I  hope  to  see  Mr.  Washington  hanged,  she  vows 
he  is  too  fine  a  man,  and  she  would  only  hang  the 
ugly  ones.  So  take  care,  Mr.  Stay-at-home,  take 
care  j  I  am  no  neutral." 

"  Thank  thee,"  I  said,  lifting  my  hat.  "  I  like  open 
enemies  best." 

"  Oh,  I  will  say  a  good  word  for  you,  when  it  comes 
to  that,  and  you  will  need  it.  Sir  Guy  will  have 
Ticonderoga  soon,  and  Mr.  Howe  New  York ;  so  that, 
with  my  loyal  cousins  and  the  king  in  possession, 
we  shall  at  least  be  in  civilised  society.'' 

"There  is  a  well-worn  proverb,"  said  I,  "about 
counting  chickens.  "Where  shalt  thou  be  in  New 
York!" 

"  Cousin  De  Lancey  has  asked  us  to  stay  with  them. 
When  the  king's  troops  return  to  your  rebel  town 
we  shall  come  back,  I  suppose." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  I  said.  "  All  my  friends  are  flitting 
like  swallows.  Poor  Mr.  Franks  is  to  go,  it  seems, 
and  the  gay  Miss  Rebecca ;  but  she  likes  the  redcoats 
best,  and  another  is  of  the  same  mind,  I  fear." 

"I  am  not  over-grieved  to  go  myself,"  said Darthea, 
"  and  we  will  not  quarrel  just  now  about  the  redcoats. 
Have  you  seen  Mr.  Warder  to-day  ? " 

"  I  have  not." 

"  Then  I  am  the  bearer  of  ill  news.  He  is  to  join 
your  new  general  in  a  week  or  two.  He  could  not 
find  you  this  morning.  I  think  he  was  relieved  to 


232  HUGH  WYNNE 

know  I  should  tell  you.  How  much  he  cares  for  you ! 
It  is  not  like  a  man  friendship.  It  is  like  the  way 
we  weak  girls  care  for  one  another.  How  can  he 
be  such  a  brave  gentleman  as  he  seems— as  he  must 
be?  I  should  have  thought  it  would  be  you  who 
would  have  gone  first.  Why  do  you  not  go  ?  Here 
is  Miss  Wynne's  pet  girl-boy  away  to  fight,  and  you 
—why  do  not  you  go  ? " 

I  was  puzzled,  as  well  I  might  be.  "Dost  thou 
want  me  to  go  ? " 

A  quick  light  came  into  those  brown  eyes,  and  a 
little  flush  to  the  cheeks  as  she  said,— oh,  so  very 
quickly,— "I  want  all  my  friends  to  do  what  seems 
to  them  right." 

"  I  am  glad  to  answer,"  I  said.  "  It  seems  to  me 
my  duty  to  be  with  the  army ;  my  friends  have  gone, 
and  now  Graydon,  the  last  to  leave,  has  also  gone. 
I  fancy  people  smiling  to  see  me  still  at  home— I 
who  am  so  positive,  so  outspoken.  But  here  is  my 
father,  with  whom  if  I  go  I  break  for  life,  and  here 
is  my  Aunt  Gainor,  who  bursts  into  tears  if  I  do  but 
mention  my  wish  to  leave  her." 

"  I  see,"  said  Darthea,  not  looking  at  me  ;  "  now  I 
understand  fully ;  I  did  not  before.  But—  will  you 
think  it  strange  if — if  I  say — I,  a  good  and  loyal 
woman— that  you  should  go,  and  soon  ? "  Then  there 
was  a  long  pause,  and  she  added,  "When  will  this 
cruel  war  end  ? " 

"  God  knows,"  said  I.  "  Thank  thee ;  thou  art  right, 
Darthea." 

Another  pause  as  long  came  after,  when  she  said 


HUGH  WYNNE  233 

abruptly,  and  in  quite  another  voice,  "You  do  not 
like  Mr.  Arthur  Wynne  ;  why  do  you  not  ? " 

I  was  startled.  One  never  knew  when  she  would 
get  under  one's  guard  and  put  some  prickly  question. 

"  Dost  thou  think  I  have  reason  to  like  him  ? "  I 
said.  "  I  did  like  him  once,  but  now  I  do  not ;  nor 
does  he  love  me  any  better.  Why  dost  thou  ask 
me?" 

"Oh,  for— no  matter!  I  am  not  going  to  say 
why." 

"I  think  thou  knowest,  Darthea,  that  he  is  no 
friend  of  mine." 

"Let  us  join  your  aunt,"  she  said  gravely. 

"  One  word  more,"  said  I,  "  and  I  shall  trouble  thee 
no  further.  Rest  sure  that,  come  what  may,  there 
is  one  man  who  loves  thee  with  a  love  no  man  can 
better." 

"  I  wish  you  had  not  said  that.  There  are  some, 
Mr.  Wynne,  who  never  know  when  to  take  No  for 
an  answer." 

"  I  am  one,"  said  I. 

To  this  she  made  no  reply,  and  rode  on  looking 
ahead  in  a  dreamy  way  that  fetched  back  to  my 
memory  a  prettiness  my  dear  mother  had.  Pres 
ently  turning,  she  said : 

"Let  it  end  here;  and— and  my  name  is  Miss 
Peniston,  please." 

There  was  no  pettishness  in  her  voice— only  a 
certain  dignity  which  sits  better  on  little  women 
than  on  little  men,  and  provokes  no  smile.  She  was 
looking  at  me  with  a  curious  steadiness  of  gaze  as 


234  HUGH  WYNNE 

she  spoke.  It  was  my  last  chance  for  many  a  day, 
and  I  could  not  let  her  go  with  a  mere  bow  of  meek 
submission. 

"  If  I  have  been  rude  or  discourteous,  I  am  more 
sorry  than  I  'can  say.  If  I  called  thee  Darthea,  it 
was  because  hope  seemed  to  bring  us  nearer  for  one 
dear  moment.  Ah !  I  may  call  thee  Miss  Peniston, 
but  for  me  always  thou  wilt  be  Darthea  j  and  I  shall 
love  Darthea  to  the  end,  even  when  Miss  Peniston 
has  come  to  be  a  distant  dream  and  has  another 
name.  I  am  most  sorry  to  have  given  thee. annoy 
ance.  Forget  that,  and  pardon  me." 

"  Mr.  Wynne,  you  are  a  kindly  and  courteous  gen 
tleman.  I  wish— and  you  must  not  misapprehend 
me— that  I  loved  you.  Oh,  I  do  not.  Your  aunt, 
who  is  so  good  to  me,  is  a  fierce  wooer.  I  am  afraid 
of  her,  and— she  must  be  miles  away;  let  us  join 
her."  And  with  this  she  shook  her  bridle,  and  was 
off  at  speed,  and  my  mare  and  I  at  her  side. 

If  I  have  made  those  who  loved  Darthea  Peniston 
and  me  understand  this  winning  soul,  I  shall  be 
glad  j  and  if  not  I  shall  at  least  have  had  the  plea 
sure  of  repeating  words  and  describing  actions  which 
live  in  my  remembrance  with  such  exactness  as  does 
not  apply  to  much  of  what,  to  the  outer  world,  may 
seem  far  better  entitled  to  be  remembered.  She  had 
it  in  her  to  hurt  you,  help  you,  pity  you,  mock  or 
amuse  you,  and  back  of  it  all  was  the  honesty  and 
truth  of  a  womanhood  capable  of  courageous  conduct, 
and  despising  all  forms  of  meanness.  That  she  was 
variously  regarded  was  natural.  Margaret  Shippen 


HUGH  WYNNE  235 

said  she  cared  only  for  dress  and  the  men  j  and  the 
witty  Miss  Franks,  seeing  further,  but  not  all,  said 
that  Darthea  Peniston  was  an  actress  of  the  minute, 
who  believed  her  every  role  to  be  real.  My  wise 
aunt  declared  that  she  was  several  women,  and  that 
she  did  not  always  keep  some  of  them  in  order.  It 
was  clear,  to  me  at  least,  that  she  was  growing  older 
in  mind,  and  was  beginning  to  keep  stricter  school 
for  those  other  women  with  whom  my  aunt  credited 
this  perplexing  little  lady. 

Before  I  quite  leave  her  for  a  time,  I  must  let 
Jack  say  a  word.  It  will  tell  more  than  I  then  knew 
or  could  know,  and  will  save  me  from  saying  that 
which  were  better  said  by  another. 

"  At  last  there  is  certainty  of  a  long  war,  and  I, 
being  well  again,  must  take  my  side.  It  is  fortunate 
when  choice  is  so  easy,  for  I  find  it  often  hard  in  life 
to  know  just  what  is  right.  Poor  Hugh,  who  has 
gone  further  than  I  from  our  fathers'  faith,  will  still 
declare  he  is  of  Friends  j  but  he  commonly  drops  our 
language  if  he  is  not  excited  or  greatly  interested, 
and  the  rest  will  go  too.  It  is  strange  that  his  reso 
luteness  and  clear  notions  of  duty  have  so  helped 
me,  and  yet  that  he  is  so  caught  and  tied  fast  by 
Miss  Gainor's  dependence  upon  him,  and  by  his 
scruples  as  to  his  father.  He  cannot  do  the  thing 
he  would.  Now  that  my  own  father  has  sold  out  his 
business,  I  at  least  am  left  without  excuse.  I  shall 
go  at  once,  for  fear  I  shall  change  my  mind."  A 
more  unlikely  thing  I  cannot  imagine  to  have  hap 
pened  to  John  Warder. 


236  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  I  saw  Darthea  to-day/7  he  goes  on  to  write.  "  She 
is  going  to  New  York.  She  talked  to  me  with  such 
frankness  as  almost  broke  my  heart.  She  does  not 
know  how  dear  she  is  to  me.  I  was  near  to  telling 
her  5  but  if  she  said  No7— and  she  would,— I  might 
—oh,  I  could  not  see  her  again.  I  had  rather  live 
in  doubt.  And  whether  Hugh  loves  her  or  not  I 
would  I«knew.  Mistress  Wynne  does  but  laugh  and 
say,  -l  Lord  bless  us  !  they  all  love  her ! '  Hugh  is, 
as  to  some  things,  reticent,  and  of  Darthea  likes  so 
little  to  speak  that  I  am  led  to  think  it  is  a  serious 
business  for  him  •  and  if  it  be  so,  what  can  I  but  go  ? 
for  how  could  I  come  between  him  and  a  woman 
he  loved  ?  Never,  surely.  Why  is  life  such  a  tangle  ? 
As  concerns  this  thing,  it  is  well  I  am  going.  What 
else  is  left  for  me  ?  My  duty  has  long  been  plain. 

"I  did  venture  to  ask  Darthea  of  Mr.  Arthur 
Wynne.  She  said  quietly,  '  I  have  had  a  letter  to 
day;'  and  with  this  she  looked  at  me  in  a  sort  of 
defiant  way.  I  like  the  man  not  at  all,  and  wonder 
that  women  fancy  him  so  greatly.  When  I  said  I 
was  sorry  she  was  going,  she  replied,  'It  is  no 
one's  business ; '  and  then  added,  '  nor  Mr.  Wynne's 
neither,'  as  if  Hugh  had  said  a  word.  In  fact,  Miss 
Peniston  was  almost  as  cross  and  abrupt  as  dear  Miss 
Wynne  at  her  worst.  If  ever,  God  willing,  I  should 
marry  her,— there,  I  am  blushing  even  to  think  of 
such  a  sweet  impossibility, — she  would  drive  me  fran 
tic.  I  should  be  in  small  rages  or  begging  her  par 
don  every  half -hour  of  the  day. 

"  What  will  Hugh  say  when  he  hears  the  Meeting 


HUGH  WYNNE  237 

means  to  disown  us?  It  troubles  me  deeply.  My 
father  is  trembling  too,  for  since  a  month  he  is  all 
for  resisting  oppression,  and  who  has  been  talking 
to  him  I  do  not  know.  Miss  Wynne  called  him  a 
decrepit  weathercock  to  me  last  month,  and  then 
was  in  a  fury  at  herself,  and  sorry  too  j  but  she  will 
talk  with  him  no  more.  It  cannot  be  because  he 
has  sold  his  Holland  cloths  so  well  to  the  etfothier- 
general.  I  never  can  think  that. 

"  When  I  saw  Miss  Wynne,  and  would  have  seen 
Hugh  had  he  been  in,  I  told  her  of  my  meaning  to 
go  away  by  the  packet  to  Burlington,  and  thence 
through  New  Jersey.  She  said  it  was  well,  but  that 
Hugh  should  not  go  yet.  He  should  go  soon.  Mr. 
Lee,  the  new  general,  had  been  to  see  her — a  great 
soldier,  she  was  told.  But  she  had  not  liked  him, 
because  he  let  her  believe  he  came  of  the  same  family 
as  Mr.  Richard  Henry  Lee  of  Virginia,  whereas  this 
is  not  so.  He  was  lank,  sour,  and  ill  dressed,  she 
said,  and  fetched  his  two  dogs  into  the  house.  When 
he  saw  Hugh,  he  said  it  was  time  all  the  young  men 
were  out.  Miss  Wynne  disliked  this,  and  it  is  re 
ported  that  Mrs.  Ferguson  and  she,  meeting  after 
church,  had  nearly  come  to  blows,  because  Mrs.  Fer 
guson  had  said  the  people  who  made  the  war  should 
be  in  the  war,  and  on  this  the  old  lady  desired  to 
know  if  this  arrow  was  meant  for  her  or  for  her 
nephew.  Mrs.  F.,  not  lacking  courage,  said  she 
might  choose. 

"  So  Madam  Wynne  is  pulled  this  way  and  that, 
and  I  must  go  alone ;  and  I  shall  have  a  lieutenant's 


238  HUGH  WYNNE 

commission,  and  a  pretty  fellow  am  I  to  order  other 
men  about.  I  like  best  the  continental  line." 

I  saw  Jack  the  day  after  my  ride  with  Miss  Pen- 
iston.  I  said  sadly  that  he  was  right,  and  we  talked 
it  all  over  that  week,  running  down  the  river  at  early 
morning  after  ducks,  and  through  the  wide  channel 
between  League  Island  and  the  Neck;  or  else  we 
were  away  to  Red  Bank,  or  to  the  Jersey  coast,  if 
the  ice  permitted,  as  it  often  did.  It  was  a  wonder 
ful,  open  winter,  as  it  chanced,  and  we  had  more 
than  our  usual  share  of  the  ducks,  which  were  very 
abundant.  As  we  lay  in  the  gray  weeds  below  the 
bluff  at  Red  Bank,  we  little  thought  of  what  it  was 
to  see.  Our  gallant  Mercer,  who  fell  at  Princeton, 
was  to  give  a  name  to  the  fort  we  built  long  after  • 
and  there,  too,  was  to  die  Count  Donop,  as  brave  a 
man,  far  from  home,  sold  by  his  own  prince  to  be 
the  hireling  of  a  shameful  king. 

The  ducks  flew  over  thick,  and  between  times,  as 
we  waited,  we  talked  at  intervals  of  the  war,  of 
Montgomery's  failure  to  capture  Quebec,  and  of  the 
lingering  siege  of  Boston ;  of  how  the  brutal  de 
struction  of  Norfolk  in  December  had  stirred  the  Vir 
ginians,  and  indeed  every  true  heart  in  the  colonies. 
Jack  would  write  when  occasion  served. 

That  last  day  (it  was  now  February,  as  I  have  said) 
we  supped  with  my  aunt,  Jack  and  I.  After  the  meal 
was  over,  she  went  out  of  the  room,  and,  coming  back, 
gave  Jack  a  handsome,  serviceable  sword,  with  a 
proper  sash  and  tie.  Then  she  must  make  him  take 
a  hundred  pounds  in  a  purse  she  had  netted}  and 


HUGH  WYNNE  239 

when  he  would  not  she  said  he  was  going  to  school, 
and  must  have  a  tip,  and  would  hear  no  more,  and 
kissed  him,  at  which  he  got  very  red.  Indeed,  she 
was  deeply  moved,  as  was  plain  to  see  from  the  way 
she  talked,  speaking  fast,  and  saying  all  manner  of 
foolish  things. 

This  business  of  the  sword  troubled  me  more  than 
it  ought  to  have  done,  and  I  resolved  that  nothing 
should  long  keep  me  out  of  the  field ;  but  alas  !  it  was 
many  a  day  before  my  going  became  possible.  And 
so  my  Jack  went  away,  and  Miss  Peniston. 

The  war  was  dull  for  a  time,  as  the  armies  got 
ready  for  a  spring  at  each  other's  throats.  At  last, 
in  March,  his  Excellency  seized  Dorchester  Heights, 
and  Boston  became  no  longer  tenable.  Howe  left 
it  on  March  14,  and,  what  was  as  desirable,  some  two 
hundred  cannon  and  vast  stores  of  ammunition. 
Then,  on  Cambridge  Common,  our  chief  threw  to  the 
free  winds  our  flag,  with  its  thirteen  stripes,  and  still 
in  the  corner  the  blood-red  cross  of  St.  George. 

Late  in  this  winter  of  '75-'76,  an  event  took  place, 
or  rather  the  sequel  of  an  event,  which  made  me  feel 
deeply  the  embarrassment  in  which  the  condition  of 
my  aunt  and  father  placed  me.  He  who  reads  may 
remember  my  speaking  of  a  young  fellow  whom  I 
saw  at  the  Woodlands,  John  Macpherson.  I  took 
a  great  fancy  to  him  later,  and  we  fished  and  shot 
together  until  he  went  away,  in  August  of  '75,  to 
join  Arnold  for  his  wild  march  into  Canada. 

His  father,  broken  and  sad,  now  brought  to  my 
aunt  the  news  of  his  son's  death  in  the  assault  on 


240  HUGH  WYNNE 

Quebec,  and,  speechless  with  grief,  showed  her  the 
young  fellow's  letter,  writ  the  night  before  he  fell. 
He  wrote,  with  other  matter :  "  I  cannot  resist  the 
inclination  I  feel  to  assure  you  that  I  experience  no 
reluctance  in  this  cause  to  venture  a  life  I  consider 
as  only  lent,  and  to  be  used  when  my  country  de 
mands  it."  He  went  on  to  say  that,  if  he  died,  he 
could  wish  his  brother  William,  an  adjutant  in  the 
king's  army,  would  not  continue  in  the  service  of 
our  enemies.  I  saw,  too,  General  Schuyler's  letter 
of  condolence,  but  this  was  later. 

Nothing  had  moved  me  like  this.  I  went  away, 
leaving  the  father  and  my  aunt.  People  came  to  this 
strong  woman,  sure  of  her  tenderest  help,  and  I  trust 
she  comforted  her  friend  in  his  loss.  This  was  the 
first  officer  of  our  own  set  our  city  lost  in  war,  and 
the  news,  I  think,  affected  me  more  than  any.  How, 
indeed,  could  I  dare  to  stay  when  the  best  manhood 
of  the  land  was  facing  death  in  a  cause  as  dear  to 
me  as  to  any  ? 

In  June  a  new  calamity  fell  on  me,  or  I  should  say 
on  my  father ;  for  I  felt  it  but  little,  or  only  as  in 
some  degree  a  release  from  bonds  which  I  hesitated 
to  sever  by  my  own  act.  On  the  morning  of  June  25, 
my  father  called  me  into  his  counting-room,  and, 
closing  the  door,  sat  down,  I,  as  was  thought  fit, 
standing  until  told  to  be  seated.  Since  he  made  no 
sign  of  any  such  desire  on  his  part,  I  knew  at  once 
that  this  was  not  to  be  a  talk  about  our  affairs,  in 
which,  I  may  say,  I  had  no  interest  except  as  to  a 
very  moderate  salary. 


HUGH  WYNNE  241 

"  Thou  wilt  have  to-day  a  call  from  Friend  Pem- 
berton.  The  overseers  are  moved,  at  last,  to  call  thee 
to  an  account.  I  have  lost  hope  that  thou  wilt  for 
sake  and  condemn  thy  error.  I  have  worked  with 
the  overseers  to  give  thee  and  thy  friend,  John  War 
der,  time,  and  this  has  been  with  tenderness  accorded. 
No  good  is  yet  come  of  it.  If  this  private  admoni 
tion  be  of  no  effect,  thy  case  will  come  before  over 
seers  again,  and  thou  wilt  be  dealt'  with  as  a  disorderly 
person,  recommended  to  be  disowned,  when  thy  mis 
deeds  come  to  be  laid  before  the  Quarterly  Meeting 
for  discipline.  Already  the  Yearly  Meeting  hath 
found  fault  with  us  for  lax  dealing  with  such  as 
thou  art.  Thou  hast  ceased  to  obey  either  thy 
father  or  thy  God,  and  now  my  shame  for  thee  is 
opened  to  all  men." 

Not  greatly  moved  I  listened  to  this  summary  of 
what  was  to  happen.  "It  is  too  late,"  I  said,  "to 
argue  this  matter,  my  dear  father.  I  cannot  sin 
against  my  conscience.  I  will  receive  Mr.  Pemberton 
as  thy  friend.  He  is  a  man  whom  all  men  respect 
and  many  love,  but  his  ways  are  no  longer  my  ways. 
Is  that  all  ? "  I  added.  I  feared  any  long  talk  with 
my  father.  We  were  as  sure  to  fall  out  at  last  as 
were  he  and  my  Aunt  Gainor. 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  that  is  all.  And  tell  Wilson  to 
bring  me  the  invoice  of  the  l  Saucy  Sally.7 " 

This  time  neither  of  us  had  lost  temper.  He  had 
transacted  a  piece  of  business  which  concerned  my 
soul,  and  I  had  listened.  It  had  left  me  sore,  but 
that  was  an  old  and  too  familiar  story.  Reflecting 

16 


242  HUGH  WYNNE 

on  what  had  passed  in  the  counting-house,— and  my 
conclusion  now  shows  me  how  fast  I  was  growing 
older,— I  put  on  my  hat  at  once,  and  set  out  to  find 
the  overseer  deputed  to  make  a  private  remonstrance 
with  my  father's  son.  I  suppose  that  my  action  was 
also  hastened  by  a  disinclination  to  lie  still,  awaiting 
an  unpleasant  and  unavoidable  business. 

Finding  James  Pemberton  in  his  office,  I  told  him 
that  my  errand  was  out  of  respect  to  relieve  him  of 
the  need  to  call  upon  a  younger  man.  He  seemed 
pleased,  and  opened  the  matter  in  a  way  so  gentle 
and  considerate  that  I  am  sure  no  man  could  have 
bettered  the  manner  of  doing  it.  My  attention  to 
business  and  quieter  life  had  for  a  time  reassured 
the  overseers.  He  would  not  speak  of  blood-guilti 
ness  now,  for  out  of  kindness  to  my  distressed  parent 
they  had  seen  fit  to  wait,  and  for  a  time  to  set  it 
aside.  My  father  had  been  in  much  affliction,  and 
Friends  had  taken  note  of  this.  Now  he  had  to  call 
to  my  mind  the  testimony  of  Friends  as  to  war,  and 
even  how  many  had  been  reported  to  the  Yearly 
Meeting  for  Sufferings  on  account  of  righteous  un 
willingness  to  resist  constituted  authority,  and  how 
men  of  my  views  had  oppressed  and  abused  them. 
Had  I  read  the  letter  of  the  Yearly  Meeting  of  1774, 
warning  members  not  to  depart  from  their  peaceful 
principles  by  taking  part  in  any  of  the  political  mat 
ters  then  being  stirred  up,  reminding  all  Friends  that 
under  the  king's  government  they  had  been  favoured 
with  a  peaceful  and  prosperous  enjoyment  of  their 
rights,  and  the  like  ? 


HUGH  WYNNE  243 

I  listened  quietly,  and  said  it  was  too  late  to  discuss 
these  questions,  which  were  many  j  that  my  mind 
was  fully  made  up,  and  that  as  soon  as  possible  I 
meant  to  enter  the  army.  He  had  the  good  sense 
to  see  that  I  was  of  no  inclination  to  change ;  and 
so,  after  some  words  of  the  most  tender  remonstrance, 
he  bade  me  to  prayerfully  consider  the  business  fur 
ther,  since  overseers  would  not  meet  at  once,  and 
even  when  they  did  there  would  be  time  to  manifest 
to  Friends  a  just  sense  of  my  errors. 

I  thanked  him,  and  went  my  way,  making,  however, 
no  sign  of  grace,  so  that,  on  July  4  of  this  1776, 
late  in  the  evening,  I  received  in  my  aunt's  presence 
a  letter  from  Isaac  Freeman,  clerk  of  the  Meeting, 
inclosing  a  formal  minute  of  the  final  action  of 
Friends  in  my  case. 

"  What  is  that  ? "  said  Aunt  Gainor,  very  cheerful 
over  a  letter  of  thanks  to  her  for  having  sold  at  cost 
to  the  Committee  of  Safety  the  cloth  of  Holland  and 
the  blankets  she  had  induced  my  father  to  buy  for 
her.  She  had  stored  them  away  for  this  hour  of 
need,  and  was  now  full  of  satisfaction  because  of 
having  made  my  father  the  means  of  clothing  the 
continental  troops. 

"  Read  it  aloud.  What  is  it,  sir  ? "  I  was  smiling 
over  what  a  few  years  before  would  have  cost  me 
many  a  bitter  thought. 

"  Give  it  me  !  What  is  it  ? "  Then  she  put  on  a 
pair  of  the  new  spectacles  with  wire  supports  to  rest 
on  the  ears.  "  Dr.  Franklin  gave  me  these  new  in 
ventions,  and  a  great  comfort  too.  I  cannot  endure 


244  HUGH  WYNNE 

bridge  glasses ;  they  leave  dents  in  one's  nose.  You 
have  not  seen  him  lately.  He  was  here  to-day.  You 
should  see  him,  Hugh.  He  was  dressed  very  fine  in 
a  velvet  coat  with  new,  shilling  buttons,  and  bless 
me !  but  he  has  got  manners  as  fine  as  his  ruffles, 
and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal — Mechlin  of  the  best. 
You  would  not  know  the  man." 

With  this  she  began  to  look  at  my  letter.  "  Hoity- 
toity,  sir !  this  is  a  fine  setting  down  for  a  naughty 
Quaker."  And  she  read  it  aloud  in  a  strong  voice, 
her  head  back,  and  the  great  promontory  of  her  nose 
twitching  at  the  nostrils  now  and  then  with  supreme 
contempt : 

"  l  To  HUGH  WYNNE  :  A  minute,  this  Tenth-day  of 
Sixth-month,  1776,  from  the  monthly  Meeting  of 
Friends  held  at  Philadelphia. 

"  <  Whereas  Hugh  Wynne  hath  had  his  birth  and 
education  among  Friends,  and,  as  we  believe,  hath 
been  convinced  of  that  divine  principle  which  pre 
serves  the  followers  thereof  from^a  disposition  to 
contend  for  the  asserting  of  civil  rights  in  a  manner 
contrary  to  our  peaceful  profession,  yet  doth  not 
manifest  a  disposition  to  make  the  Meeting  a  proper 
acknowledgment  of  his  outgoings,  and  hath  further 
declared  his  intention  to  continue  his  wrong-doing ; 

111  Therefore,  for  the  clearing  of  truth  and  our 
society,  we  give  forth  our  testimony  against  such 
breaches,  and  can  have  no  unity  with  him,  the  said 
Hugh  Wynne,  as  a  member  of  our  society  until  he 
become  sensible  of  his  deviations,  and  come  to  a  sense 


HUGH  WYNNE  245 

of  his  error,  and  condemn  the  same  to  the  satisfac 
tion  of  Friends  ;  which  is  that  we,  as  Christian  men, 
desire. 

"  l  Signed  in,  and  on  behalf  of,  the  Meeting  by 

" l  ISAAC  FREEMAN, 
" '  Clerk: 

"What  insolent  nonsense  ! n  cried  Miss  Wynne.  "  I 
hope  your  father  is  satisfied.  I  assure  you  I  am. 
You  are  free  at  last.  Here  was  James  Warder  to-day 
with  a  like  document  to  the  address  of  my  dear  Jack. 
I  was  assured  that  it  was  a  terrible  disgrace.  I  bade 
him  take  snuff  and  not  be  any  greater  fool  than,  na 
ture  had  made  him.  He  took  my  snuff  and  sneezed 
for  ten  minutes.  I  think  it  helped  him.  One  can 
neither  grieve  nor  reason  when  one  is  sneezing.  It 
is  what  Dr.  Rush  calls  a  moral  alterative.  Whenever 
the  man  fell  to  lamenting,  I  gave  him  more  snuff. 
I  think  it  helped  him.  And  so  the  baa-lambs  of  Meet 
ing  have  disowned  their  two  black  sheep.  Well,  well ! 
I  have  better  news  for  you.  Mr.  Carroll  was  here 
just  now,  with  his  charming  ways.  One  would  think 
when  he  is  talking  that  one  is  the  only  woman  alive. 
If  I  thought  the  priests  taught  him  the  trick,  I  would 
turn  papist.  You  should  observe  his  bow,  Hugh.  I 
thought  Mr.  Chew's  bow  not  to  be  surpassed;  but 
Mr.  Carroll— oh,  where  was  II" 

"  Some  good  news,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  yes.  He  tells  me  the  Congress  this  evening 
voted  for  a  Declaration  of  Independence." 

"  Indeed !  "  I  cried.     "  So  it  has  come  at  last.     I, 


246  HUGH  WYNNE 

too,  am  free,  and  it  is  time  I  went  away,  Aunt 
Gainor." 

"  We  will  see,"  she  said.  "How  can  I  do  without 
you?  and  there  is  your  father  too.  He  is  not  the 
man  he  was,  and  I  do  not  see,  Hugh,  how  you  can 
leave  him  yet." 

It  was  too  true,  as  my  last  interview  had  shown 
me.  He  was  no  longer  the  strong,  steadily  obstinate 
John  Wynne  of  a  year  or  two  back.  He  was  less 
decisive,  made  occasional  errors  in  his  accounts,  and 
would  sometimes  commit  himself  to  risky  ventures. 
Then  Thomas  Mason,  our  clerk,  or  my  aunt  would 
interfere,  and  he  would  protest  and  yield,  having  now 
by  habit  a  great  respect  for  my  aunt's  sagacity,  which 
in  fact  was  remarkable. 

I  went  back  to  my  work  discontented,  and  pulled 
this  way  and  that,  not  clearly  seeing  what  I  ought 
to  do  ;  for  how  could  I  leave  him  as  he  now  was  ? 
My  aunt  was  right. 

Next  day  I  heard  Captain  John  Nixon  read  in  the 
state-house  yard  the  noble  words  of  the  declara 
tion.  Only  a  few  hundred  were  there  to  hear  it,  and 
its  vast  consequences  few  men  as  yet  could  apprehend.4 
Miss  Norris  told  me  not  long  after  that  she  climbed 
on  a  barrow  and  looked  over  their  garden  wall  at 
Fifth  street  and  Chestnut ;  "  and  really,  Mr.  Wynne, 
there  were  not  ten  decent  coats  in  the  crowd."  But 
this  Miss  Norris  was  a  hot  Tory,  and  thought  us  all 
an  underbred  mob,  as,  I  fear,  did  most  of  the  pro 
prietary  set — the  men  lacking  civil  courage  to  fight 
on  either  side,  and  amazed  that  Mr.  Wilson,  and 


HUGH  WYNNE  247 

Mr.  Reed,  and  Mr.  Robert  Morris,  and  the  Virginia 
gentry,  should  side  with  demagogues  like  Adams 
and  .Roger  Sherman. 

And  so  time  ran  on.  I  fenced,  drilled,  saw  my 
companions  drift  away  into  war,  and  knew  not  how 
to  escape.  I  can  now  look  back  on  my  dismissal 
from  Meeting  with  more  regret  than  it  gave  my  youth. 
I  have  never  seen  my  way  to  a  return  to  Friends ; 
yet  I  am  still  apt  to  be  spoken  of  as  one  of  the  small 
number  who  constitute,  with  Wetherill  and  Owen 
and  Clement  Biddle,  the  society  of  Friends  known 
as  Free  Quakers.  To  discuss  why  later  I  did  not 
claim  my  place  as  one  of  these  would  lead  me  to 
.speaking  of  spiritual  affairs,  and  this,  as  I  have  else 
where  said,  I  never  do  willingly,  nor  with  comfort  to 
myself. 

One  afternoon  in  September  of  this  year  I  was 
balancing  an  account  when  my  father  came  in  and 
told  me  that  Mason,  our  clerk,  had  just  had  a  fall  in 
the  hold  of  one  of  our  ships.  The  day  after  I  saw 
him,  and  although  his  hurts  were  painful  they  hardly 
seemed  to  justify  my  father  in  his  desire  that  now 
at  last  he  should  take  a  long  rest  from  work. 

This  threw  all  the  detail  of  our  affairs  as  largely 
into  my  hands  as  was  possible  with  a  man  like  my 
father.  I  think  he  guessed  my  intention  to  leave 
him  for  the  army,  and  gladly  improved  this  chance 
to  load  me  with  needless  affairs,  and  all  manner  of 
small  perplexities.  My  aunt  wras  better— in  fact, 
well ;  but  here  was  this  new  trouble.  What  could  I 
do?  My  father  declared  that  the  old  clerk  would 


248  HUGH  WYNNE 

soon  be  able  to  resume  his  place,  and  meanwhile, 
he  should  have  no  one  to  help  him  but  me.  Now 
and  then,  to  my  surprise,  he  made  some  absurd  busi 
ness  venture,  and  was  impatient  if  I  said  a  word  of 
remonstrance.  Twice  I  was  sent  to  Maryland  to  see 
after  our  tobacco  plantations.  I  was  in  despair,  and 
became  depressed  and  querulous,  seeing  no  present 
way,  nor  any  future  likelihood,  of  escape.  My  father 
was  well  pleased,  and  even  my  aunt  seemed  to  me 
too  well  satisfied  with  the  ill  turn  which  fate  had 
done  me.  My  father  was  clearly  using  the  poor  old 
clerk's  calamity  as  an  excuse  to  keep  me  busy  j  nor 
was  it  at  all  like  him  to  employ  such  subterfuges. 
All  his  life  long  he  had  been  direct,  positive,  and 
dictatorial ;  a  few  years  back  he  would  have  ordered 
me  to  give  up  all  idea  of  the  army,  and  would  as  like 
as  not  have  punished  resistance  with  cold-blooded 
disinheritance.  He  was  visibly  and  but  too  clearly 
changing  from  the  resolute,  uncompromising  man 
he  had  once  been.  Was  he  cunning  enough  to  know 
that  his  weakness  was  for  me  a  bondage  far  stronger 
than  his  more  vigorous  rule  had  ever  been  ? 


XV 


Y  personal  difficulties  were  not  made  more 
easy  to  bear  by  the  course  of  public 
events.  Howe  had  taken  New  York. 
In  November  Fort  Washington  fell. 
Jack,  who  was  within  its  walls,  got 
away,  but  was  slightly  wounded.  Our  English  gen 
eral,  Lee,  had  begun  already  to  intrigue  against 
Mr.  Washington,  writing,  as  Dr.  Rush  confided  to  my 
aunt,  that  he,  Lee,  ought  to  be  made  dictator.  My 
aunt  received  the  impression  that  the  doctor,  who 
loved  his  country  well,  was  becoming  discontented 
with  our  chief ;  but  neither  then  nor  later  did  she 
change  her  own  opinion  of  the  reserved  and  cour 
teous  Virginian. 

He  soon  justified  her  views  of  his  capacity.  On 
December  1  he  broke  down  the  bridges  in  his  rear 
over  the  Raritan,  and  marched  through  Jersey  with 
a  dwindling  army.  At  Princeton  he  had  but  three 
thousand  men ;  destroying  every  boat,  he  wisely  put 
the  broad  Delaware  between  his  army  and  the  enemy. 
Lord  Cornwallis  halted  at  the  river,  waiting  for  it 
to  freeze  that  he  might  cross,  and  until  this  should 
happen  went  back  with  Howe  to  New  York.  About 
December  15  of  '76,  General  Lee  was  captured,  and, 

249 


250  HUGH  WYNNE 

strange  as  it  may  now  seem,  no  calamity  yet  come 
upon  us  created  more  consternation.  Meanwhile 
our  own  alarmed  citizens  began  to  bury  their  silver 
plate.  While  the  feeble  were  flying,  and  the  doubtful 
were  ready  to  renew  their  oath  to  the  king,  the  wary 
and  resolute  commander-in-chief  saw  his  chance. 

To  aid  his  courageous  resolve  came  Sullivan  and 
Gates  from  Lee's  late  command.  "  At  sunset  on 
Christmas  day  we  crossed  the  Delaware/'  writes  Jack. 
"  My  general  was  in  a  small  boat,  with  Knox,  and 
two  boatmen.  We  were  ten  hours  in  the  ice,  and 
marched  nine  miles,  after  crossing,  in  a  blinding  storm 
of  sleet.  By  God's  grace  we  took  one  thousand  of 
those  blackguard  Hessians,  and,  but  for  Cadwalader's 
ill  luck  with  the  ice,  would  have  got  Doiiop  also.  I 
had  a  finger  froze,  but  no  worse  accident. 

"  I  dare  say  you  know  we  fell  back  beyond  Assun- 
pink  Creek,  below  Trenton.  There  we  fought  my 
lord  marquis  again  with  good  fortune.  Meanwhile 
he  weakened  his  force  at  Princeton,  and,  I  fancy, 
thought  we  were  in  a  trap ;  but  our  general  left  fires 
burning,  passed  round  the  enemy's  left,  and,  as  we 
came  near  Princeton  at  sunrise,  fell  upon  Colonel 
Mawhood  on  his  way  to  join  Cornwallis.  I  was  close 
to  General  Mercer  when  we  saw  them,  and  had  as 
usual  a  fit  of  the  shakes,  hang  them  !  Luckily  there 
was  small  leisure  to  think. 

"In  the  first  onset,  which  was  fierce,  our  brave 
general  was  mortally  wounded ;  and  then,  his  Excel 
lency  coming  up,  we  routed  them  finely.  So  away 
went  Cornwallis,  with  the  trapped  hot  after  the  trap- 


HUGH  WYNNE  251 

pers.  We  have  the  Jerseys  and  two  thousand  pris 
oners.  I  do  not  think  even  Miss  Wynne  can  imagine 
what  courage  it  took  for  our  general  to  turn  as  he 
did  on  an  army  like  that  of  Cornwallis'.  Are  you 
never  coming  ? 

"  It  is  sad  that  the  Southern  officers  look  upon  us 
and  those  of  New  England  as  tradesfolk,  and  this 
makes  constant  trouble,  especially  among  the  militia, 
who  come  and  go  much  as  they  please.  I  have  had 
no  personal  difficulty,  but  there  have  been  several 
duels,  of  which  little  is  said. 

"It  is  to  be  hoped  that  Congress  will  now  order 
all  enlistments  to  be  for  the  war,  else  we  shall  soon  be 
in  a  mortal  bad  way.  Hast  heard  of  Miss  Peniston  ? " 

This  letter  came  soon  after  the  smart  little  winter 
campaign  in  Jersey  had  made  us  all  so  happy. 

"  It  will  last  a  good  while  yet,"  said  James  Wilson. 
"  And  when  are  you  going,  Hugh  ? "  Indeed,  I  began 
at  last  to  see  a  way  opened,  as  we  of  Friends  say ; 
for  now,  in  the  spring,  our  old  clerk  hobbled  back  to 
his  desk,  and  I  knew  that  my  father  would  no  longer 
be  left  without  friendly  and  familiar  help.  But  be 
fore  he  could  assume  his  full  duties  August  was  upon 
us — August  of  '77,  a  year  for  me  most  eventful. 
Darthea's  letters  to  my  aunt  grew  less  and  less  fre 
quent,  and,  as  I  thought,  had  an  air  of  sadness  un 
usual  in  this  gladsome  creature.  Once  she  spoke  of 
Captain  Wynne  as  absent,  and  once  that  he,  like  Jack, 
had  had  a  slight  wound  in  the  storm  of  Fort  Wash 
ington.  Of  politics  she  could  say  nothing,  as  her 
letters  had  usually  to  pass  our  lines. 


252  HUGH  WYNNE 

On  July  31  Washington  knew  that  Howe's  fleet 
was  off  the  Delaware  capes.  Meanwhile  he  had 
crossed  that  river  into  Pennsylvania,  and  hurried  his 
army  across  country,  finally  encamping  on  a  Satur 
day  at  Nicetown,  some  five  miles  from  Philadelphia. 
I  rode  out  that  evening  to  meet  Jack,  whose  troop 
camped  even  nearer  to  town,  and  close  to  the  tents 
of  the  headquarters  staff.  The  general  lay  for  this 
night  at  Stenton,  where  our  Quaker  friends,  the 
Logans,  lived.  He  was  shown,  I  was  told,  the  secret 
stairway  and  the  underground  passage  to  the  stable 
and  beyond,  and  was  disposed  to  think  it  curious. 

Jack,  now  a  captain,  in  a  new  suit  of  blue  and  buff, 
looked  brown  and  hardy,  and  his  figure  had  spread, 
but  the  locks  were  as  yellow  and  the  cheeks  as  rosy 
as  ever  I  knew  them. 

Dear  Aunt  Gainor  made  much  of  him  that  evening, 
and  we  talked  late  into  the  night  of  battles  and 
generals  and  what  had  gone  with  Lord  Howe.  I 
went  to  bed  discontented,  feeling  myself  to  be  a  very 
inconsiderable  person,  and  Jack  rode  away  to  camp. 
The  next  day  being  Sunday,  the  24th  of  August, 
his  Excellency  marched  into  town  by  Front  street  at 
the  head  of  the  flower  of  his  army,  in  all  about  eleven 
thousand.  Fine  men  they  were,  but  many  half  clad 
and  ill  shod  ;  fairly  drilled  too,  but  not  as  they  were 
later  in  the  war.  The  town  was  wild  with  delight, 
and  every  one  glad  save  the  Tories  and  the  Quakers, 
many  of  whom  remained  all  day  in  their  houses. 

This  march  being  made  only  to  exhibit  the  army 
to  friend  and  foe,  the  troops  moved  out  High  street 


HUGH  WYNNE  253 

and  by  the  middle  ferry  across  the  Schuylkill,  on 
their  way  toward  the  Delaware  to  meet  Mr.  Howe, 
who,  having  landed  at  the  head  of  Elk  River,  was 
now  on  his  way  toward  Philadelphia.  His  troops 
were  slow,  the  roads  bad  and  few,  the  ague  in  great 
force  and  severe— or  so  we  heard.  I  rode  sadly  with 
onr  people  as  far  as  Darby,  and  then  turned  home 
ward  a  vexed  and  dispirited  man.  It  was,  I  think, 
on  the  4th  of  August  that  our  general,  who  had  rid 
den  on  in  advance  of  his  army,  first  met  Marquis 
Lafayette. 

My  aunt,  who  spoke  French  with  remarkable  flu 
ency  and  a  calm  disregard  of  accent  and  inflections, 
was  well  pleased  to  entertain  the  French  gentleman, 
and  at  her  house  I  had  the  happiness  to  make  his 
acquaintance,  greatly,  as  it  proved,  to  my  future  ad 
vantage.  He  was  glad  to  find  any  who  spoke  his 
own  tongue  well,  and  discussed  our  affairs  with  me, 
horrified  at  the  lack  of  decent  uniforms  and  discipline, 
but,  like  me,  pleased  with  the  tall,  strong  men  he  saw 
in  our  ranks.  Later  my  acquaintance  with  French 
was  of  much  use  to  me  ;  so  little  can  a  man  tell  what 
value  an  accomplishment  will  have  for  him. 

The  marquis  was  very  young,  and  somewhat  free 
in  stating  his  opinions.  At  this  time  he  thought 
Mr.  Howe  intended  Charleston,  and,  like  others,  was 
amazed  at  his  folly  in  not  going  up  the  Delaware 
Bay  to  land  his  troops.  His  strange  strategy  left 
Burgoyne  to  the  fate  in  store  for  him  at  Saratoga, 
where  the  latter  general  was  to  act  a  first  part  in  a 
tragic  drama  much  finer  than  those  he  wrote,  which 


254  HUGH  WYNNE 

were  so  greatly  praised  by  the  fine  ladies  in  London, 
and  indeed  by  some  better  critics. 

A  letter  of  Jack's  came  to  hand  during  this  week. 
In  it  he  said  my  aunt  must  leave,  as  he  was  sure  we 
had  not  force  enough  to  keep  General  Howe  out 
of  Philadelphia.  But  the  old  lady  said,  "  Not  I,  in 
deed  !  "  and  I  think  no  mortal  power  could  have  in 
duced  her  to  go  away.  She  even  declined  to  bury 
her  silver,  as  many  had  done.  Not  so  the  rest  of 
the  Whigs.  Every  one  fled  who  knew  where  to  go, 
or  who  feared  to  be  called  to  account;  and  none 
weuld  hear  of  defending  the  town,  as  should  have 
been  attempted. 

Jack's  letter  went  on  to  say  that  in  Delaware  the 
general  had  a  narrow  escape.  "  He  rode  out,"  says 
Jack,  "  with  Marquis  Lafayette  on  a  reconnaissance, 
attended  by  but  two  officers  and  an  orderly.  General 
Sullivan  had  an  officer  follow  with  a  half -troop  j  but 
the  general,  fearing  such  numbers  might  attract 
attention,  ordered  them  to  wait  behind  a  thicket. 
Looking  thence,  they  saw  the  general  ride  direct 
toward  a  picket  of  the  enemy,  which  from  their 
vantage  they  could  see,  but  he  could  not.  An  Eng 
lish  officer,  perceiving  him,  seemed  to  give  an  order 
to  fire ;  but  as  the  men  raised  their  pieces  he  struck 
them  up.  As  he  was  about  to  give  the  order  to  fire, 
the  general,  being  satisfied,  had  turned  his  back  to 
ride  away.  It  is  a  curious  tale,  is  it  not  ?  and  none 
can  explain  it." 

Long  years  after  I  myself  met  an  English  officer, 
a  General  Henderson,  in  Canada,  and  on  my  telling 


HUGH  WYNNE  255 

him  the  incident,  he  said  at  once  it  was  he  who  was 
concerned,  and  that  when  the  general  turned  to  ride 
away  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  shoot  down 
a  man  who  had  turned  his  back.  He  was  amazed 
and  pleased  to  know  who  it  was  he  thus  spared. 

On  the  llth  of  September,  at  evening,  came  the 
disaster  of  Brandy  wine,  and  on  the  26th  Lord  Corn-, 
wallis  marched  into  our  city,  with  two  batteries  and 
the  Sixteenth  Dragoons  and  Grenadiers.  They  were 
received  quietly,  and  that  evening  my  Cousin  Arthur 
appeared  at  our  house.  My  father,  who  had  been 
very  inert  of  late,  seemed  to  arouse  himself,  and  ex 
pressed  quite  forcibly  his  joy  and  relief  at  the  coming 
of  the  troops.  He  recounted  his  griefs,  too :  how 
that,  refusing  the  militia  tax,  the  Committee  of  Safety 
had  taken  away  his  great  tankard,  and  later  two 
tables,  which  was  true  enough.  Then,  to  my  amaze 
ment,  my  father  declared  Arthur  must  stay  with  us, 
which  he  was  nothing  loath  to  do. 

I  was  cool,  as  you  may  suppose,  but  it  was  difficult 
for  man  or  woman  to  resist  Arthur  Wynne  when 
he  meant  to  be  pleasant ;  and  so,  putting  my  dislike 
aside,  I  found  myself  chatting  with  him  about  the 
Avar  and  what  not.  In  fact,  he  was  a  guest,  and  what 
else  could  I  do  ? 

My  aunt  kept  herself  indoors  and  would  none  of 
the  Galloways  and  Aliens,  who  had  come  back  in 
swarms,  nor  even  the  neutrals,  like  Mr.  Penn,  whom 
she  much  liked.  The  day  after  the  town  was  occu 
pied,  Captain  Wynne  appeared  early  in  the  morning, 
as  we  were  discussing  a  matter  of  business.  He 


256  HUGH  WYNNE 

took  it  for  granted,  I  presume,  that  my  aunt  would 
see  him,  and  went  past  the  turbaned  black  boy 
despite  his  small  remonstrances.  My  aunt  rose  to 
the  full  of  her  great  height,  her  nose  in  the  air,  and 
letting  fall  a  lapful  of  papers. 

"  To  what,"  she  said,  "  have  I  the  honour  to  owe 
a  visit  from  Mr.  Wynne  ?  Is  my  house  an  inn,  that 
any  officer  of  the  king  may  enter  whether  I  will  or 
not?" 

Although  he  must  have  been  surprised,  he  was 
perfectly  at  his  ease.  Indeed,  I  envied  him  his  self- 
possession. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "I  am  charged  with  a  letter 
from  Miss  Peniston." 

"You  may  put  it  on  the  table,"  says  Mistress 
Wynne.  "My  brother  may  choose  his  society.  I 
ask  the  same  privilege.  It  will  not  consist  of  gentle 
men  of  your  profession." 

Mr.  Wynne's  face  grew  black  under  its  dark  skin. 
"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  stay  nowhere  as  an  unwelcome 
guest.  I  thank  you  for  past  kindness,  and  I  humbly 
take  my  leave.  I  could  have  done  you  a  service  as 
to  this  business  of  the  quartering  of  officers,  and  you 
shall  still  have  my  good  offices  for  the  sake  of  the 
many  pleasant  hours  I  have  passed  in  your  house. 
As  my  Cousin  Hugh  says  nothing,  I  am  glad  to  think 
that  he  is  of  a  different  opinion  from  that  which  you 
have  put  in  words  so  agreeably."  With  this  he  went 
away,  leaving  my  aunt  red  in  the  face,  and  speechless 
with  wrath. 

I  thought  he  had  the  best  of  it  j  but  I  merely  said, 


HUGH  WYNNE  257 

u  My  dear  aunt,  you  should  not  have  been  so  hard 
with  him."  I  did,  indeed,  think  it  both  unwise  and 
needless. 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !  n  says  Miss  Wynne,  walking 
about  as  my  father  used  to  do.  "I  do  not  trust  him, 
and  he  has  got  that  girl  in  his  toils,  poor  child !  I 
wonder  wrhat  lies  he  has  told  her.  How  does  he  hold 
her!  I  did  think  that  was  past  any  man's  power; 
and  she  is  unhappy  too.  When  a  woman  like  Dar- 
thea  begins  to  find  a  man  out,  she  can't  help  showing 
it,  and  some  are  more  frank  on  paper  than  in  talk  j 
that  is  her  way.  I  am  afraid  I  made  mischief  once, 
for  I  told  him  long  ago  that  I  meant  her  to  marry 
you ;  and  then  I  saw  he  did  not  like  it,  and  I  knew 
I  had  been  a  goose.  Whatever  is  the  reason  he  hates 
you,  Hugh?  Oh  yes,  he  does— he  does.  Is  it  the 
woman!  I  will  have  no  redcoats  in  my  house." 

I  got  a  chance  to  say— what  I  was  sorry  to  have 
to  say— how  little  need  there  was  for  him  to  fear 
poor  me,  whom  Darthea  wished  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with,  I  thought. 

"Her  loves  are  like  her  moods,  my  dear  Hugh; 
who  knows«how  long  they  will  last  ?  Until  a  woman 
is  married  she  is  not  to  be  despaired  of." 

I  shook  mj  head  sadly  and  went  out. 

I  returned  late  in  the  evening,  to  order  my  horse 
to  be  saddled  and  sent  to  me  before  breakfast  next 
morning ;  for  I  kept  it  at  no  cost  in  my  aunt's  ample 
stable.  To  my  horror,  I  found  a  sentinel  at  the  door, 
and  the  hall  full  of  army  baggage.  In  the  parlour 
was  a  tall  Hessian,  General  von  Kiiyphausen,  and 

17 


258  HUGH  WYNNE 

Count  Donop  and  others,  smoking,  much  at  their  ease. 
They  were  fairly  civil,  but  did  not  concern  themselves 
greatly  if  I  liked  it  or  not.  I  found  my  aunt  in  bed, 
in  a  fever  of  vain  anger. 

She  had  the  bed-curtains  drawn,  and  when  I  was 
bid  to  enter,  put  aside  the  chintz  so  as  to  make  room 
for  her  head,  which  appeared  in  a  tall  nightcap.  I 
am  unfit,  I  fear,  to  describe  this  gear ;  but  it  brought 
out  all  her  large  features  very  strongly,  and  to  have 
seen  her  would  have  terrified  a  Hessian  regiment. 

"  My  house  is  full  of  Dutch  dogs/'  she  cried.  "  As 
soon  as  they  came  they  ordered  bones."  In  fact,  they 
had  asked  quite  civilly  if  they  might  have  supper. 

"  I  saw  them  at  their  feed,"  says  my  aunt,  "  and 
the  big  beast,  General  Knyphausen,  spread  my  best 
butter  on  his  bread  with  his  thumb,  sir— his  thumb  ! 
Count  Donop  is  better;  but  Von  Heiser!  and  the 
pipes !  heavens !  "  Here  she  retreated  within  her 
curtains,  and  I  heard  her  say,  "  Bessy  Ferguson  saw 
them  come  in,  and  must  sail  across  the  street  and  tell 
Job— the  page  with  the  turban— to  congratulate  me 
for  her,  and  to  advise  me  to  get  a  keg  of  sauerkraut." 

I  assured  my  aunt  that  fortunately  these  were  gen 
tlemen,  but  she  was  inconsolable,  declaring  herself 
ill,  and  that  Dr.  Rush  must  come  at  once. 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  he  is  gone  with  all  the  Congress 
to  York." 

"  Then  I  shall  die,"  moaned  my  aunt. 

At  last,  knowing  her  well,  I  said,  "Is  it  not  too 
sad?" 

"What's  that?    What?" 


HUGH  WYNNE  259 

"Mr.  Howe  has  taken  Mrs.  Pemberton's  carriage 
and  the  pair  of  sorrels  for  his  own  use." 

At  this  my  Aimt  Gainor's  large  face  reappeared, 
not  as  melancholic  as  before,  and  I  added,  "  Friend 
Wain  has  six  to  care  for,  and  Thomas  Scattergood 
has  the  Hessian  chaplain  and  a  drunken  major.  The 
rest  of  Friends  are  no  better  off." 

"  Thank  the  Lord  for  all  His  mercies  !  "  said  Miss 
Wynne. 

"  And  Mr.  Cadwalader's  house  on  Little  Dock  street 
Sir  William  has." 

"  A  pity  that,  Hngh.  The  fine  furniture  will  pay 
for  it,  I  fear.  I  think,  Hugh,  I  am  better,  or  I  shall 
be  soon." 

"  They  talk  of  the  Meeting  over  the  way  for  a  bar 
rack,  Aunt  Gain  or."  Now  this  was  idly  rumoured, 
but  how  could  one  resist  to  feed  an  occasion  so 
comic  ? 

"  I  think  I  should  die  contented,"  said  Miss  Wynne. 
"  Now  go  away,  Hugh.  I  have  had  my  medicine,  and 
I  like  it."  She  was  quick  at  self-analysis,  and  was 
laughing  low,  really  happier  for  the  miseries  of  her 
Tory  acquaintances. 

After  the  bedroom  comedy,  which  much  amused 
me  and  out  of  which  my  aunt  got  great  comfort,  she 
was  inclined  to  be  on  better  terms  with  the  officers 
so  abruptly  thrust  upon  her.  For  a  while,  however, 
she  declined  to  eat  her  meals  with  them,  and  when 
told  that  they  had  had  Colonel  Montresor  to  dine,  and 
had  drunk  the  king's  health,  she  sent  all  the  glasses 
they  had  used  down  to  the  blacks  in  the  kitchen, 


260  HUGH  WYNNE 

and  bade  them  never  to  dare  set  them  on  her  table 
again.  This  much  delighted  Count  Donop,  who 
loved  George  of  Hanover  no  better  than  did  she,  and 
I  learned  that  she  declared  the  bread-and-butter  busi 
ness  was  the  worst  of  Von  Knyphausen,  and  was 
no  doubt  a  court  custom.  As  to  Count  Donop,  she 
learned  to  like  him.  He  spoke  queer  French,  and 
did  not  smoke.  "  Je  nefoume  pas  chamais,  madame" 
he  said;  "metis  le  Cheneral,  ilfoume  touchours,  et  Von 
Reiser  le  meme"  which  was  true.  The  count  knew 
her  London  friends,  and  grieved  that  he  was  sent  on 
a  service  he  did  not  relish,  and  in  which  later  he  was 
to  lose  his  life. 

My  aunt  fed  them  well,  and  won  at  piquet,  and 
declared  they  were  much  to  be  pitied,  although  Von 
Heiser  was  a  horror.  When  he  had  knocked  down 
her  red-and-gold  Delft  vase,  the  gods  and  the  other 
china  were  put  away,  and  then  the  rugs,  because  of 
the  holes  his  pipe  ashes  burned,  and  still  she  vowed 
it  was  a  comfort  they  were  not  redcoats.  Them  she 
would  have  poisoned. 

Captain  Andre  alone  was  an  exception.  When,  in 
1776,  he  was  made  a  prisoner  by  Montgomery  in 
Canada,  and  after  that  was  on  parole  at  Lancaster,  I 
met  him  j  and  as  he  much  attracted  me,  my  aunt  sent 
him  money,  and  I  was  able  to  ease  his  captivity  by 
making  him  known  to  our  friends,  Mr.  Justice  Yeates 
and  the  good  Cope  people,  who,  being  sound  Tories, 
did  him  such  good  turns  as  he  never  forgot,  and 
kindly  credited  to  us.  Indeed,  he  made  for  my  aunt 
some  pretty  sketches  of  the  fall  woods,  and,  as  I 


HUGH  WYNNE  261 

have  said,  was  welcome  where  no  other  redcoat  could 
enter. 

My  aunt  was  soon  easier  in  mind,  but  my  own 
condition  was  not  to  be  envied.  Here  was  Arthur 
Wynne  at  my  father's,  the  Hessians  at  my  aunt's,  the 
Tories  happy,  seven  or  eight  thousand  folks  gone 
away,  every  inn  and  house  full,  and  on  the  street 
crowds  of  unmannerly  officers.  It  was  not  easy  to 
avoid  quarrels.  Already  the  Hessian  soldiers  began 
to  steal  all  manner  of  eatables  from  the  farms  this 
side  of  Schuylkill.  More  to  my  own  inconvenience, 
I  found  that  Major  von  Heiser  had  taken  the  priv 
ilege  of  riding  my  mare  Lucy  so  hard  that  she  was 
unfit  to  use  for  two  days.  At  last  my  aunt's  chicken- 
coops  suffered,  and  the  voice  of  her  pet  rooster  was 
no  more  heard  in  the  land.  I  did  hear  that,  as  this 
raid  of  some  privates  interfered  with  the  Dutch  gen 
eral's  diet,  one  of  the  offenders  got  the  strappado. 
But  no  one  could  stop  these  fellows,  and  they  were 
so  bold  as  to  enter  houses  and  steal  what  they  wanted, 
until  severe  measures  were  taken  by  Mr.  Howe.  They 
robbed  my  father  boldly,  before  his  eyes,  of  two  fat 
Virginia  peach-fed  hams,  and  all  his  special  tobacco. 
He  stood  by,  and  said  they  ought  not  to  do  it.  This, 
as  they  knew  no  tongue  but  their  own,  and  as  he 
acted  up  to  his  honest  belief  in  the  righteousness  of 
non-resistance,  and  uttered  no  complaint,  only  served 
to  bring  them  again.  But  this  time  I  was  at  home, 
and  nearly  killed  a  corporal  with  the  Quaker  staff 
Thomas  Scattergood  gave  my  father.  The  adven 
ture  seemed  to  compensate  Miss  Wynne  for  her  own 


262  HUGH  WYNNE 

losses.  The  corporal  made  a  lying  complaint,  and 
but  for  Mr.  Andre  I  should  have  been  put  to  serious 
annoyance.  Our  boys  used  to  say  that  the  Hessian 
drum-beat  said,  "  Plunder,  plunder,  plun,  plun,  plun 
der.'7  And  so  for  the  sad  remnant  of  Whig  gentles 
the  town  was  made  in  all  ways  unbearable. 

There  are  times  when  the  life  sands  seem  to  run 
slowly,  and  others  when  they  flow  swiftly,  as  dur 
ing  this  bewildering  week.  All  manner  of  things 
happened,  mostly  perplexing  or  sad,  and  none  quite 
agreeable.  On  the  28th,  coming  in  about  nine  at 
night,  I  saw  that  there  were  persons  in  the  great 
front  sitting-room,  which  overlooked  Dock  Creek. 
As  I  came  into  the  light  which  fell  through  the  open 
doorway,  I  stood  unnoticed.  The  room  was  full  of 
pipe  smoke,  and  rum  and  Hollands  were  on  the  table, 
as  was  common  in  the  days  when  Friends'  Meeting 
made  a  minute  that  Friends  be  vigilant  to  see  that 
those  who  work  in  the  harvest-fields  have  portions  of 
rum.  My  father  and  my  cousin  sat  on  one  side,  op 
posite  a  short,  stout  man  almost  as  swarthy  as  Ar 
thur,  and  with  very  small  piercing  eyes,  so  dark  as 
to  seem  black,  which  eyes  never  are. 

I  heard  this  gentleman  say,  "  Wynne,  I  hear  that 
your  brother  is  worse.  These  elder  brothers  are  un 
natural  animals,  and  vastly  tenacious  of  life."  On 
this  I  noticed  my  cousin  frown  at  him  and  slightly 
shake  his  head.  The  officer  did  not  take  the  hint, 
if  it  were  one,  but  added,  smiling,  "  He  will  live  to 
bury  you;  unfeeling  brutes— these  elder  brothers. 
Damn  'em ! " 


HUGH  WYNNE  263 

I  was  shocked  to  notice  how  inertly  my  father 
listened  to  the  oath,  and  I  recalled,  with  a  sudden 
sense  of  distress,  what  my  aunt  had  said  of  my 
father's  state  of  mind.  The  young  are  accustomed 
to  take  for  granted  the  permanency  of  health  in  their 
elders,  and  to  look  upon  them  as  unchanging  insti 
tutions,  until,  in  some  sad  way,  reminded  of  the  frailty 
of  all  living  things. 

As  I  went  in,  Arthur  rose,  looked  sharply  at  me, 
and  said,  "Let  me  present  my  cousin,  Mr.  Hugh 
Wynne,  Colonel  Tarleton." 

I  bowed  to  the  officer,  who  lacked  the  politeness 
to  rise,  merely  saying,  "Pleased  to  see  you,  Mr. 
Wynne." 

"  We  were  talking,"  said  Arthur,  "  when  you  came 
of  the  fight  at  the  river  with  the  queer  name— Bran 
dy  wine,  is  n't  it  ? " 

"  No/7  said  my  father ;  "  thou  art  mistaken,  and  I 
wished  to  ask  thee,  Arthur,  what  was  it  thou  wert 
saying.  We  had  ceased  to  speak  of  the  war.  Yes  j 
it  was  of  thy  brother." 

"  What  of  thy  brother  ?"  said  I,  glad  of  this  opening. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  except  Colonel  Tarleton  had  news 
he  was  not  so  well."  He  was  so  shrewd  as  to  think 
I  must  have  overheard  enough  to  make  it  useless  to 
lie  to  me.  A  lie,  he  used  to  say,  was  a  reserve  not 
to  be  called  into  service  except  when  all  else  failed. 

"Oh,  was  that  all  I"  I  returned.  "I  did  hear, 
Cousin  Arthur,  that  the  Wyncote  estate  was  growing 
to  be  valuable  again  ;  some  coal  or  iron  had  been 
found." 


264  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  So  my  mother  writes  me/'  said  Tarleton.  "  We 
are  old  friends  of  your  family." 

"You  know/'  I  said,  "we  are  the  elder  branch." 
I  was  bent  on  discovering,  if  possible,  the  cause  of  my 
cousin's  annoyance  whenever  Wyncote  was  mentioned. 

"  I  wish  it  were  true  about  our  getting  rich/'  said 
Arthur,  with  the  relaxed  look  about  the  jaw  I  had 
come  to  know  so  well  j  it  came  as  he  began  to  speak. 
"If  it  were  anything  but  idle  gossip,  Tarleton, 
what  would  it  profit  a  poor  devil  of  a  younger  son  ? 
They  did  find  coal,  but  it  came  to  nothing ;  and  in 
deed  I  learn  they  lost  money  in  the  end." 

"  I  have  so  heard,"  said  my  father,  in  a  dull  way. 
"  Who  was  it  told  me u?  I  forget.  They  lost  money." 

I  looked  at  him  amazed.  Who  could  have  told  him 
but  Arthur,  and  why  ?  Until  a  year  back  his  mem 
ory  had  been  unfailing. 

I  saw  a  queer  look,  part  surprise,  part  puzzle,  go 
over  Tarleton's  face,  a  slight  frown  above,  as  slight 
a  smile  below.  I  fancy  he  meant  to  twit  my  cousin, 
for  he  said  to  me : 

"And  so  you  are  of  the  elder  branch,  Mr.  Hugh 
Wynne.  How  is  that,  Arthur  ?  How  did  the  elder 
branch  chance  to  lose  that  noble  old  house  ? " 

My  cousin  sat  rapping  with  his  fingers  on  the  table 
what  they  used  to  call  the  "  devil's  tattoo,"  regarding 
me  with  steady,  half -shut  eyes— a  too  frequent  and 
not  well-mannered  way  he  had,  and  one  I  much  dis 
liked.  He  said  nothing,  nor  had  he  a  chance,  for  I 
instantly  answered  the  colonel :  "  My  father  can  tell 
you." 


HUGH  WYNNE  265 

"About  what,  Hugh?" 

"  About  how  we  lost  our  Welsh  estate." 

My  father  at  this  lifted  his  great  bulk  upright  in 
the  old  Penn  chair,  and  seemed  more  alive. 

"  It  is  Colonel  Tarleton  who  asks,  not  I." 

"  It  is  an  old  story."  He  spoke  quite  like  himself. 
"Our  cousin  must  know  it  well.  My  father  suf 
fered  for  conscience'  sake,  and,  being  a  Friend, 
would  pay  no  tithes.  For  this  he  was  cast  into  jail 
in  Shrewsbury  Gate  House,  and  lay  there  a  year, 
suffering  much  in  body,  but  at  peace,  it  may  surely 
be  thought,  as  to  his  soul.  At  last  he  was  set  free 
on  condition  that  he  should  leave  the  country." 

"And  the  estate!"  asked  Tarleton. 

"  He  thought  little  of  that.  It  was  heavily  charged 
with  debt  made  by  his  father's  wild  ways.  I  believe, 
too,  there  was  some  agreement  with  the  officers  of 
the  crown  that  he  should  make  over  the  property  to 
his  next  brother,  who  had  none  of  his  scruples.  This 
was  in  1670,  or  thereabouts.  A  legal  transfer  was 
made  to  my  uncle,  who,  I  think,  loved  my  father, 
and  understood  that,  being  set  in  his  ways,  he  would 
defy  the  king's  authority  to  the  end.  And  so  — 
wisely  I  think  —the  overruling  providence  of  God 
brought  us  to  a  new  land,  where  we  have  greatly 
prospered." 

"And  that  is  all!"  said  the  colonel.  "What  a 
strange  story  !  And  so  you  are  Wynne  of  Wyncote, 
and  lost  it." 

"  For  a  greater  gain,"  said  my  father.  "  My  son 
has  a  silly  fancy  for  the  old  place,  but  it  is  lost — lost 


266  HUGH  WYNNE 

—sold;  and  if  we  could  have  it  at  a  word,  it  would 
grieve  me  to  see  him  cast  in  his  lot  among  a  set  of 
drunken,  dicing,  hard-riding  squires— a  godless  set. 
It  will  never  be  if  I  can  help  it.  My  son  has  left  the 
creed  of  his  father  and  of  mine,  and  I  am  glad  that 
his  worldly  pride  cannot  be  further  tempted.  Dost 
thou  hear,  Hugh  ? " 

There  was  a  moment  of  awkward  silence.  My 
father  had  spoken  with  violence,  once  or  twice  strik 
ing  the  table  with  his  fist  until  the  glasses  rang. 
There  was  something  of  his  old  vehemence  in  his 
statement ;  but  as  a  rule,  however  abrupt  when  we 
were  alone,  before  strangers  he  was  as  civil  to  me  as 
to  others.  My  cousin,  I  thought,  looked  relieved  as 
my  father  went  on;  and,  ceasing  to  drum  on  the 
table,  he  quietly  filled  himself  a  glass  of  Hollands. 

I  was  puzzled.  What  interest  had  Arthur  to  lie 
about  the  value  of  Wyncote  if  it  was  irretrievably 
lost  to  us !  As  my  father  ended,  he  glanced  at  me 
with  more  or  less  of  his  old  keenness  of  look,  smiling 
a  little  as  he  regarded  me.  The  pause  which  came 
after  was  brief,  as  I  have  said ;  for  my  reflections, 
such  as  they  were,  passed  swiftly  through  my  mind, 
and  were  as  complete  as  was  under  the  circumstances 
possible. 

"I  am  sorry  for  you/7  said  Tarleton.  "An  old 
name  is  much,  but  one  likes  to  have  with  it  all  the 
memories  that  go  with  its  ancient  home." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  I ;  "  and,  if  my  father  will 
pardon  me,  I  like  still  to  say  that  I  would  have 
Wyncote  to-day  if  I  could." 


HUGH  WYNNE  267 

"  Thou  canst  not,"  said  my  father.  "  And  what  we 
cannot  have— what  God  has  willed  that  we  shall  not 
have— it  were  wise  and  well  to  forget.  It  is  my  affair, 
and  none  of  thine.  Wilt  thou  taste  some  of  my  newly 
come  Madeira,  Friend  Tarleton  ? " 

The  colonel  said  "No/7  and  shortly  after  left  us, 
my  cousin  going  with  him. 

My  father  sat  still  for  a  while,  and  then  said  as 
I  rose,  "I  trust  to  hear  no  more  of  this  nonsense. 
Thy  aunt  and  thy  mother  have  put  it  in  thy  foolish 
head.  I  will  have  no  more  of  it— no  more.  Dost 
thou  hear  ? " 

I  said  I  would  try  to  satisfy  him,  and  so  the  thing- 
came  to  an  end. 

The  day  after  this  singular  talk,  which  so  much 
puzzled  me,  Arthur  said  at  breakfast  that  he  should 
be  pleased  to  go  with  me  on  the  river  for  white  perch. 
I  hesitated ;  but,  my  father  saying,  "  Certainly ;  he 
shall  go  with  thee.  I  do  not  need  him,"  I  returned 
that  I  would  be  ready  at  eleven. 

We  pulled  over  toward  Petty's  Island,  and  when 
half-way  my  cousin,  who  was  steering,  and  had  been 
very  silent  for  him,  said : 

"  Let  her  drift  a  bit ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

I  sat  still  and  listened. 

"Why  do  not  you  join  our  army?  A  commission 
were  easily  had." 

I  replied  that  he  knew  my  sentiments  well,  and 
that  his  question  was  absurd. 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  am  your  friend,  although  you 
do  not  think  so.  By  George !  were  I  you,  I  would 


268  HUGH  WYNNE 

be  on  one  side  or  the  other.  I  like  my  friends  to  do 
what  is  manly  and  decisive."  "  Holloa !  n  thinks  I ; 
"  has  Darthea  been  talking  ?  And  why  does  he,  an 
officer  of  the  king,  want  me  to  go  ? " 

"  I  shall  go  some  day,"  I  replied,  "  but  when,  I  know 
not  yet.  It  seems  to  me  queer  counsel  to  give  a  good 
rebel.  When  does  Miss  Peniston  return  ? "  I  said. 

"  What  the  deuce  has  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?  Yes, 
she  is  coming  back,  of  course,  and  soon ;  but  why  do 
not  you  join  your  army?" 

"Let  us  drop  that,"  I  said.  "There  are  many 
reasons  ;  I  prefer  not  to  discuss  the  matter." 

"  Very  good,"  he  said ;  "  and,  Hugh,  you  heard  a 
heap  of  nonsense  last  night  about  Wyncote.  Tarle- 
ton  had  too  much  of  your  father's  rum-punch.  Your 
people  were  lucky  to  lose  the  old  place,  and  how  these 
tales  of  our  being  rich  arose  I  cannot  imagine.  Come 
and  see  us  some  day,  and  you  will  110  longer  envy  the 
lot  of  beggared  Welsh  squires." 

All  of  this  only  helped  the  more  to  make  me  dis 
believe  him ;  but  the  key  to  his  lies  I  had  not,  and  so 
I  merely  said  it  would  be  many  a  day  before  that 
could  happen. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  returned ;  "  but  who  knows  ?  The 
war  will  soon  be  over." 

"When  will  Miss  Peniston  be  in  town?"  said  I. 

He  was  not  sure ;  but  said  I  put  it  in  his  mind  to 
say  something. 

"  Well  ? "  said  I,  on  my  guard. 

He  went  on :  "  I  am  a  frank  man,  Cousin  Hugh." 

At  times  he  was,  and  strangely  so  j  then  the  next 


HUGH  WYNNE  209 

minute  he  would  be  indirect  or  lie  to  you.  The  mix 
ture  made  it  hard  to  understand  what  he  was  after. 

"I  trust/'  he  went  on,  "that  you  will  pardon  me 
if  I  say  that  in  England  custom  does  not  sanction 
certain  freedoms  which  in  the  colonies  seem  to  be 
regarded  as  of  no  moment.  I  am  not  of  this  opinion. 
Miss  Peniston  is,  I  hope,  to  be  my  wife.  She  is 
young,  impulsive,  and— well,  no  matter.  Some  men 
take  these  things  coolly;  I  do  not.  I  am  sure  you 
will  have  the  good  sense  to  agree  with  me.  When 
a  woman  is  pledged  to  a  man,  it  is  fit  that  she  should 
be  most  guarded  in  her  relations  with  other  men. 
I-" 

Here  I  broke  in,  "What  on  earth  does  all  this 
mean?" 

"  I  will  tell  you.  Your  aunt  writes  now  and  then 
to  Miss  Peniston." 

"  Certainly,"  said  I. 

"Yes;  she  says,  too,  things  concerning  you  and 
that  lady  which  are  not  to  my  taste." 

"Indeed?" 

"  I  have  been  so  honoured  as  to  see  some  of  these 
famous  epistles.  I  think  Darthea  is  pleased  to  tor 
ment  me  at  times ;  it  is  her  way,  as  you  may  happen 
to  know.  Also,  and  this  is  more  serious,  you  have 
yourself  written  to  Darthea." 

"I  have,  and  several  times.     Why  not?" 

"  These  letters,"  he  went  on,  "  she  has  refused  to 
show  to  me.  Now  I  want  to  say— and  you  will  par 
don  me— that  I  permit  no  man  to  write  to  a  woman 
whom  I  am  to  marry  unless  I  do  not  object." 


270  HUGH  WYNNE 

"Well?"  I  said,  beginning  to  smile,  after  my 
unmanageable  habit. 

"  Here  I  do  object." 

"  What  if  I  say  that,  so  long  as  Miss  Peniston  does 
not  seem  displeased,  I  care  not  one  farthing  who 
objects?" 

"  By  George  !  "  cried  he,  leaping  up  in  the  boat. 

"  Take  care ;  thou  wilt  upset  the  skiff." 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to." 

"  Nonsense !  I  can  swim  like  a  duck." 

"  This  is  no  trifle,  sir,"  he  returned.  "  I  will  allow 
no  man  to  take  the  liberty  you  insist  on.  It  amazes 
me  that  you  do  not  see  this  as  I  do.  I  am  sorry,  but 
I  warn  you  once  for  all  that  I—" 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  sir,"  I  broke  in. 

"  Pshaw !  nonsense  !  I  am  a  guest  in  your  father's 
house.  I  have  thought  it  my  duty,  for  your  sake  and 
my  own,  to  say  what  I  have  said.  When  I  know 
that  you  have  again  disobeyed  my  reasonable  and 
most  earnest  wish,  I  shall  consider  how  to  deal  with 
the  matter.  I  have  been  forbearing  so  far,  but  I 
cannot  answer  for  the  future." 

"  Cousin  Arthur,"  I  replied,  "  this  seems  to  me  a 
silly  business,  in  which  we  have  both  lost  our  tem 
pers.  I  have  no  hope  that  Miss  Peniston  will  ever 
change  her  mind,  and  I  am  free  to  say  to  you  that  I 
think  it  useless  to  persist  j  but  nevertheless—" 

"Persist!" 

"  I  said  '  persist.7  Until  Miss  Peniston  is  no  longer 
Miss  Peniston,  I  shall  not  cease  to  do  all  that  is  in 
my  power  to  make  her  change  her  mind." 


HUGH  WYNNE  271 

"And  you  call  that  honourable— the  conduct  of  a 
gentleman  and  a  kinsman  f " 

"Yes;  I,  too,  can  be  frank.  I  would  rather  see 
her  marry  any  other  man  than  yourself.  You  have 
sought  to  injure  me,  why  I  shall  tell  you  at  my  own 
time.  I  think  you  have  been  deceiving  all  of  us  as 
to  certain  matters.  Oh,  wait !  I  must  have  my  say. 
If  you  were— what  I  do  not  think  you— a  straight 
forward,  truthful  man,  I  should  think  it  well,  and 
leave  Miss  Peniston  to  what  seems  to  be  her  choice. 
You  have  been  frank,  and  so  am  I,  and  now  we  un 
derstand  each  other,  and— no;  I  heard  you  to  an 
end,  and  I  must  insist  that  I  too  be  heard.  I  am  not 
sorry  to  have  had  this  talk.  If  I  did  not  care  for  her 
who  has  promised  you  her  hand,  I  should  be  careless 
as  to  what  you  are,  or  whether  you  have'  been  an 
enemy  in  my  home  while  pretending  to  be  a  friend. 
As  it  is,  I  love  her  too  well  not  to  do  all  I  can  to 
make  her  see  you  as  I  see  you ;  and  this,  although 
for  me  there  is  no  least  hope  of  ever  having  a  place 
in  her  heart.  I  am  her  friend,  and  shall  be,  and,  until 
she  forbids,  shall  claim  every  privilege  which,  with 
our  simpler  manners,  the  name  of  friend  carries  with 
it.  I  trust  I  am  plain." 

"  Plain  ?  By  heavens  !  yes.  I  have  borne  much, 
but  now  I  have  only  to  add  that  I  never  yet  forgave 
an  insult.  You  would  be  wiser  to  have  a  care.  A 
man  who  never  yet  forgave  has  warned  you.  What 
I  want  I  get ;  and  what  I  get  I  keep." 

"  I  think,"  I  said,  "  that  we  will  go  ashore." 

"  With  all  my  heart."    And  in  absolute  silence  I 


272  HUGH   WYNNE 

pulled  back.  At  tlie  slip  lie  left  me  without  a  word, 
and  I  secured  the  boat  and  walked  away,  having 
found  ample  subject  for  reflection.  Nor  was  I  alto 
gether  discontented  at  my  cousin's  evident  jealousy. 

The  afternoon  of  this  memorable  day  I  rode  out 
on  poor  Lucy,  whom  I  had  put  for  safety  in  our  home 
stables.  I  went  out  High  to  Seventh  street,  and  up 
to  Eace  street  road,  where  there  was  better  footing, 
as  it  had  been  kept  in  order  for  the  sport  which  made 
us  call  it  Eace  street,  and  not  Sassafras,  which  is  its 
real  name.  I  was  brought  to  a  stand  about  Twelfth 
street,  then  only  an  ox-path,  by  the  bayonet  of  a  gren 
adier,  the  camps  lying  about  this  point.  I  turned  to 
ride  back,  when  I  heard  a  voice  I  knew  crying : 

" Holloa,  Mr.  Wynne!  Are  you  stopped,  and 
why?'7 

I  said  I  knew  no  reason,  but  would  go  south.  I 
was  out  for  a  ride,  and  had  no  special  errand. 

"  Come  with  me  then,"  he  said  pleasantly.  "  I  am 
now  the  engineer  in  charge  of  the  defences."  This 
was  my  Aunt  Gainor's  old  beau,  Captain  Montresor, 
now  a  colonel. 

"I  am  sorry  your  aunt  will  see  none  of  us, 
Mr.  Wynne.  If  agreeable  to  you,  we  will  ride 
through  the  lines." 

I  asked  nothing  better,  and  explaining,  awkwardly 
I  fear,  that  my  aunt  was  a  red-hot  Whig,  we  rode 
south  to  Spruce  street,  past  the  Bettering-house  at 
Spruce  and  Eleventh  streets,  where  the  troops  which 
had  entered  with  Lord  Cornwallis  were  mostly  sta 
tioned.  The  main  army  lay  at  Germantown,  with  de- 


HUGH  WYNNE  273 

tachments  below  the  city,  on  the  east  and  west  banks 
of  the  Schuylkill,  to  watch  our  forts  at  Red  Bank  and 
the  islands  which  commanded  the  Delaware  River 
and  kept  the  British  commander  from  drawing  sup 
plies  from  the  great  fleet  which  lay  helpless  below. 

As  we  went  by,  the  Grenadiers  were  drilling  on 
the  open  space  before  the  poorhouse.  I  expressed 
my  admiration  of  their  pointed  caps,  red,  with  silver 
front  plates,  their  spotless  white  leggings  and  blue- 
trimmed  scarlet  coats. 

"  Too  much  finery,  Mr.  Wynne.  These  are  a  king's 
puppets,  dressed  to  please  the  whim  of  royalty.  If 
all  kings  took  the  field,  we  should  have  less  of  this. 
Those  miserable  devils  of  Mr.  Morgan's  fought  as 
well  in  their  dirty  skin  shirts,  and  can  kill  a  man  at 
murderous  distance  with  their  long  rifles  and  little 
bullets.  It  is  like  gambling  with  a  beggar.  He 
has  all  to  get,  and  nothing  to  lose  but  a  life  too 
wretched  to  make  it  worth  keeping." 

I  made  no  serious  reply,  and  we  rode  westward 
through  the  governor's  woods  to  the  river.  As  we 
turned  into  an  open  space  to  escape  a  deep  mud-hole, 
Mr.  Montresor  said : 

"  It  was  here,  I  think,  you  and  Mr.  Warder  made 
yourselves  agreeable  to  two  of  our  people."  I  laughed, 
and  said  it  was  a  silly  business  and  quite  needless. 

"  That,  I  believe,"  he  cried,  laughing,  "  was  their 
opinion  somewhat  late.  They  were  the  jest  of  every 
regimental  mess  for  a  month,  and  we  were  inclined 
to  think  Mr.  Washington  had  better  raise  a  few 
regiments  of  Quakers.  Are  you  all  as  dangerous  ? " 

18 


274  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  Oh,  worse,  worse/'  I  said.  "  Jack  Warder  and  I 
are  only  half -fledged  specimens.  You  should  see  the 
old  fellows."  Thus  jesting,  we  rode  as  we  were  able 
until  we  reached  the  banks  of  the  Schuylkill,  pick 
eted  on  both  shores,  but  on  the  west  side  not  below 
the  lower  ferry,  where  already  my  companion  was 
laying  a  floating  bridge  which  greatly  interested 
me. 

"We  have  a  post  on  the  far  hill,"  he  said,  "I  am 
afraid  to  Mr.  Hamilton's  annoyance.  Let  us  follow 
the  river." 

I  was  able  to  guide  him  along  an  ox-road,  and  past 
garden  patches  across  High  street,  to  the  upper  ferry 
at  Callowhill  street.  Here  he  pointed  out  to  me  the 
advantage  of  a  line  of  nine  forts  which  he  was  already 
building.  There  was  to  be  one  on  the  hill  we  call 
Pairmount  to  command  the  upper  ferry.  Others 
were  to  be  set  along  to  the  north  of  Callowhill  street 
road  at  intervals  to  Cohocsink  Creek  and  the  Dela 
ware. 

The  great  trees  I  loved  were  falling  fast  under  the 
axes  of  the  pioneers,  whom  I  thought  very  awkward 
at  the  business.  Farm-houses  were  being  torn  down, 
and  orchards  and  hedges  levelled,  while  the  unhappy 
owners  looked  on  in  mute  despair,  aiding  one  an 
other  to  remove  their  furniture.  The  object  was  to 
leave  a  broad  space  to  north  of  the  forts,  that  an 
attacking  force  might  find  no  shelter.  About  an 
hundred  feet  from  the  blockhouses  was  to  be  an 
abatis  of  sharpened  logs,  and  a  mass  of  brush  and 
trees,  through  which  to  move  would  be  difficult. 


HUGH  WYNNE  275 

I  took  it  all  in,  and  greedily.  The  colonel  no  doubt 
thought  me  an  intelligent  young  fellow,  and  was  kind 
enough  to  answer  all  my  questions.  He  may  later 
have  repented  his  freedom  of  speech.  And  now  I 
saw  the  reason  for  all  this  piteous  ruin.  Compensa 
tion  was  promised  and  given,  I  heard,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  hard  to  be  thus  in  a  day  thrust  out  of  homes 
no  doubt  dear  to  these  simple  folk.  We  went  past 
gardens  and  fields,  over  broken  fences,  all  in  the 
way  of  destruction.  Tape-lines  pegged  to  the  earth 
guided  the  engineers,  and  hundreds  of  negroes  were 
here  at  work.  Near  to  Cohocsink  Creek  we  met  the 
second  Miss  Chew,  riding  with  her  father.  He  was 
handsome  in  dark  velvet,  his  hair  clubbed  and  pow 
dered  beneath  a  flat  beaver  with  three  rolls,  and  at 
his  back  a  queue  tied  with  a  red  ribbon.  He  had 
remained  quietly  inactive  and  prudent,  and,  being 
liked,  had  been  let  alone  by  our  own  party.  It  is  to 
be  feared  that  neither  he  nor  the  ribbon  was  quite 
as  neutral  as  they  had  been.  Miss  Margaret  looked 
her  best.  I  much  dislike  "  Peggy,"  by  which  name 
she  was  known  almost  to  the  loss  of  that  fine,  full 
"  Margaret,"  which  suited  better  her  handsome, 
uptilted  head  and  well-bred  look. 

On  the  right  side  rode  that  other  Margaret,  Miss 
Shippen,  of  whom  awhile  back  I  spoke,  but  then 
only  as  in  pretty  bud,  at  the  Woodlands.  It  was  a 
fair  young  rose  I  now  saw  bowing  in  the  saddle,  a 
woman  with  both  charm  and  beauty.  Long  after, 
in  London,  and  in  less  merry  days,  she  was  described 
by  Colonel  Tarleton  as  past  question  the  handsomest 


276  HUGH   WYNNE 

woman  in  all  England.  I  fear,  too,  she  was  •  the 
saddest. 

"  And  where  have  you  kept  yourself,  Mr.  Wynne  ?  " 
she  asked.  "You  are  a  favourite  of  my  father's, 
you  know.  I  had  half  a  mind  not  to  speak  to  you." 

I  bowed,  and  made  some  gay  answer.  I  could 
not  well  explain  that  the  officers  who  filled  their 
houses  were  not  to  my  taste. 

"Let  me  present  you  to  Mr.  Andre,"  said  Mr. 
Shippen,  who  brought  up  the  rear. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  know  Mr.  Wynne,"  said  the 
officer.  "  We  met  at  Lancaster  when  I  was  a  pris 
oner  in  '76  ;  in  March,  was  it  not  ?  Mr.  Wynne  did 
me  a  most  kind  service,  Montresor.  I  owe  it  to  him 
that  I  came  to  know  that  loyal  gentleman,  Mr.  Cope, 
and  the  Yeates  people,  who  at  least  were  loyal  to  me.. 
I  have  not  forgotten  it,  nor  ever  shall." 

I  said  it  was  a  very  small  service,  and  he  was  kind 
to  remember  it. 

"  You  may  well  afford  to  forget  it,  sir ;  I  shall  not," 
he  returned.  He  was  in  full  uniform ;  not  a  tall  man, 
but  finely  proportioned,  with  remarkably  regular 
features  and  a  clear  complexion  which  was  set  oif 
to  advantage  by  powdered  hair  drawn  back  and  tied 
in  the  usual  ribboned  queue. 

We  rode  along  in  company,  happy  enough,  and 
chatting  as  we  went,  Mr.  Andre,  as  always,  the  life 
of  the  party.  He  had  the  gracious  frankness  of  a 
well-mannered  lad,  and,  as  I  recall  him,  seemed  far 
younger  than  his  years.  He  spoke  very  feelingly 
aside  to  me  of  young  Macpherson,  who  fell  at  Quebec. 


. 

HUGH  WYNNE 


277 


He  himself  had  had  the  ill  luck  not  to  be  present 
when  that  gallant  assault  was  made.  He  spoke  of  us 
always  as  colonials,  and  not  as  rebels ;  and  why  was  I 
not  in  the  service  of  the  king,  or  perhaps  that  was  a 
needless  question  ? 

I  told  him  frankly  that  I  hoped  before  long  to  be 
in  quite  other  service.  At  this  he  cried,  "So,  so! 
I  would  not  say  it  elsewhere.  Is  that  so?  'T  is  a 
pity,  Mr.  Wynne ;  a  hopeless  cause,"  adding,  with  a 
laugh,  that  I  should  not  find  it  very  easy  to  get  out 
of  the  city,  which  was  far  too  true.  I  said  there  were 
many  ways  to  go,  but  how  I  meant  to  leave  I  did  not 
yet  know.  After  I  got  out  I  would  tell  him.  We 
had  fallen  back  a  little  as  we  talked,  the  road  just 
here  not  allowing  three  to  ride  abreast. 

"  I  shall  ask  the  colonel  for  a  pass  to  join  our  army," 
I  said  merrily. 

"I  would,"  said  he,  as  gay  as  1 5  "but  I  fear  you 
and  Mistress  Wynne  will  have  no  favours.  Pray 
tell  her  to  be  careful.  The  Tories  are  talking." 

"  Thanks,"  said  I,  as  we  drew  aside  to  let  pass  a 
splendid  brigade  of  Hessians,  fat  and  well  fed,  with 
shining  helmets. 

"  We  are  drawing  in  a  lot  of  men  from  German- 
town,"  said  Andre,  "but  for  what  I  do  not  know. 
Ah,  here  comes  the  artillery !  " 

I  watched  them  as  we  all  sat  in  saddle,  while  regi 
ment  after  regiment  passed,  the  women  admiring 
their  precision  and  soldierly  bearing.  For  my  part, 
I  kept  thinking  of  the  half -clad,  ill-armed  men  I  had 
seen  go  down  these  same  streets  a  little  while  before. 


278  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  I  will  go,"  I  said  to  myself  j  and  in  a  moment  I  had 
made  one  of  those  decisive  resolutions  which,  once 
made,  seem  to  control  me,  and  to  permit  no  future 
change  of  plan. 

By  this  time  we  were  come  to  the  bridge  over 
Cohocsink  Creek,  I  having  become  self-absorbed  and 
silent.  The  colonel  called  my  attention  to  his  having 
dammed  the  creek,  and  thus  flooded  the  low  meadows 
for  more  complete  defence.  I  said,  "  Yes,  yes ! n 
being  no  longer  interested. 

Mr.  Shippen  said,  "  We  will  cross  over  to  the  i  Rose 
of  Bath 7  and  have  a  little  milk-punch  before  we  ride 
back."  This  was  an  inn  where,  in  the  garden,  was 
a  mineral  water  much  prescribed  by  Dr.  Kearsley. 
I  excused  myself,  however,  and,  pleading  an  engage 
ment,  rode  slowly  away. 

I  put  up  my  inare  in  my  aunt's  stable,  and  went 
at  once  into  her  parlour,  full  of  my  purpose. 

I  sat  down  and  told  her  both  the  talk  of  two  days 
before  with  Tarleton  and  my  cousin,  and  also  that  I 
had  had  in  my  boat. 

She  thought  I  had  been  foolishly  frank,  and  said, 
"  You  have  reason  to  be  careful,  Hugh.  That  man 
is  dangerous.  He  would  not  fight  you,  because  that 
would  put  an  end  to  his  relations  with  your  father. 
Clerk  Mason  tells  me  he  has  already  borrowed  two 
hundred  pounds  of  my  brother.  So  far  I  can  see," 
she  went  on ;  "  the  rest  is  dark— that  about  Wyncote, 
I  mean.  Darthea,  when  once  she  is  away,  begins  to 
criticise  him.  In  a  word,  Hugh,  I  think  he  has 
reason  to  be  jealous." 


HUGH  WYNNE  279 

«O  AuntGainor!" 

"Yes.  She  does  not  answer  your  letters,  nor 
should  she,  but  she  answers  them  to  me,  the  minx ! 
a  good  sign,  sir." 

"  That  is  not  all,  aunt.  I  can  stand  it  no  longer. 
I  must  go ;  I  am  going." 

"The  army,  Hugh?" 

"  Yes ;  my  mind  is  made  up.  My  two  homes  are 
hardly  mine  any  longer.  Every  day  is  a  reproach. 
For  my  father  I  can  do  little.  His  affairs  are  almost 
entirely  wound  up.  He  does  not  need  me.  The  old 
clerk  is  better." 

"  Will  it  be  hard  to  leave  me,  my  son  ? " 

"  You  know  it  will,"  said  I.  She  had  risen,  tall  and 
large,  her  eyes  soft  with  tears. 

"You  must  go,"  she  said,  "and  may  God  protect 
and  keep  you.  I  shall  be  very  lonely,  Hugh.  But 
you  must  go.  I  have  long  seen  it." 

Upon  this,  I  begged  she  would  see  my  father  often, 
and  give  me  news  of  him  and  of  Darthea  whenever 
occasion  served.  Then  she  told  me  Darthea  was  to 
return  to  the  city  in  two  days,  and  she  herself  would 
keep  in  mind  all  I  had  wished  her  to  do.  After  this 
I  told  her  of  the  difficulties  I  should  meet  with,  and 
we  talked  them  over.  Presently  she  said,  "Wait;" 
then  left  the  room,  and,  coming  back,  gave  me  a 
sword  the  counterpart  of  Jack's. 

"  I  have  had  it  a  year,  sir.  Let  me  see,"  she  cried, 
and  would  have  me  put  it  on,  and  the  sash,  and  the 
buff-and-blue  sword-knot.  After  this  she  put  a  great 
hand  on  each  shoulder  just  as  she  had  done  with 


280  HUGH   WYNNE 

Jack,  and,  kissing  me,  said,  "  War  is  a  sad  thing,  but 
there  are  worse  things.  Be  true  to  the  old  name,  my 
son."  Nor  could  she  bide  it  a  moment  longer,  but 
hurried  out  with  her  lace  handkerchief  to  her  eyes, 
saying  as  she  went,  "  How  shall  I  bear  it !  How  shall 
I  bear  it !  " 

She  also  had  for  me  a  pair  of  silver-mounted  pistols, 
and  an  enamelled  locket  with  my  mother's  ever  dear 
face  within,  done  for  her  when  my  mother  was 
in  England  by  the  famous  painter  of  miniatures, 
Mr.  Malbone. 

And  now  I  set  about  seeing  how  I  was  to  get  away. 
Out*  own  forces  lay  at  Pennypacker's  Mills,  or  near 
by  j  but  this  I  did  not  know  until  later,  and  neither 
the  British  nor  I  were  very  sure  as  to  their  precise 
situation.  It  was  clear  that  I  must  go  afoot.  As 
I  walked  down  Second  street  with  this  on  my  mind, 
I  met  Colonel  Montresor  with  a  group  of  officers. 
He  stopped  me,  and,  after  civilly  presenting  me, 


"  Harcourt  and  Johnston  ''—this  latter  was  he  who 
later  married  the  saucy  Miss  Franks  and  her  fortune 
—  "  want  to  know  if  you  have  duck-shooting  here  on 
the  Schuylkill." 

Suddenly,  as  I  stood,  I  saw  my  chance  and  how 
to  leave  the  town.  I  said,  "It  is  rather  early,  but 
there  are  a  few  ducks  in  the  river.  If  I  had  a  boat  I 
would  try  it  to-morrow,  and  then  perhaps,  if  I  find 
any  sport,  one  of  you  would  join  me  the  day  after." 

"  Very  good,"  said  they,  as  well  pleased  as  I. 


HUGH  WYNNE  281 

"And  the  boat?  "I  said. 

The  colonel  had  one,  a  rather  light  skiff,  he  told 
me.  He  used  it  to  go  up  and  down  to  look  at  the 
bridges  he  was  now  busily  laying.  When  I  asked 
for  its  use  the  next  day,  he  said  Yes,  if  I  would  send 
him  some  ducks;  adding  that  I  should  need  a  pass. 
He  would  send  it  that  evening  by  a  sergeant,  and  an 
order  for  the  skiff,  which  lay  on  this  side  at  the  lower 
ferry.  I  thanked  him,  and  went  away  happy  in  the 
success  of  my  scheme. 

I  came  upon  Andre  just  after.  "Not  gone  yet? " 
he  said. 

I  replied,  "  Not  yet ;  but  I  shall  get  away." 

He  rejoined  that  he  would  not  like  to  bet  on  that, 
and  then  went  011  to  say  that  if  my  aunt  had  any 
trouble  as  to  the  officers  quartered  on  her,  would  she 
kindly  say  so.  The  Hessians  were  rough  people,  and 
an  exchange  might  be  arranged.  Gentlemen  of  his 
own  acquaintance  could  be  substituted.  He  himself 
was  in  Dr.  Franklin's  house.  It  was  full  of  books, 
and  good  ones  too. 

I  thanked  him,  but  said  I  fancied  she  was  Whig 
enough  to  like  the  Hessians  better. 

On  Second  street  I  bought  a  smock  shirt,  rough 
shoes,  and  coarse  knit  stockings,  as  well  as  a  good 
snapsack,  and,  rolling  them  up  securely,  left  them 
at  home  in  the  hay-loft.  My  sword  and  other  finery  I 
must  needs  leave  behind  me.  I  had  no  friends  to  say 
good-bye  to,  and  quite  late  in  the  evening  I  merely 
ran  in  and  kissed  my  aunt,  and  received  eight  hun- 


282  HUGH  WYNNE 

dred  pounds  in  English  notes,  her  offering  to  the 
cause,  which  I  was  to  deliver  to  the  general.  Her 
gift  to  me  was  one  hundred  pounds  in  gold,  just 
what  she  gave  to  my  Jack.  The  larger  sum  she  had 
put  aside  by  degrees.  It  embarrassed  me,  but  to 
refuse  it  would  have  hurt  her. 

I  carefully  packed  my  snapsack,  putting  the  gold 
in  bags  at  the  bottom,  and  covering  it  with  the  flan 
nel  shirts  and  extra  shoes  which  made  up  my  outfit. 
I  could  not  resist  taking  my  pistols,  as  I  knew  that 
to  provide  myself  as  well  in  camp  would  not  be  pos 
sible.  The  bank-bills  I  concealed  in  my  long  stock 
ings,  and  would  gladly  have  been  without  them  had 
I  not  seen  how  greatly  this  would  disappoint  my  aunt. 
She  counted,  and  wisely,  on  their  insuring  me  a  more 
than  favourable  reception.  Lastly,  I  got  me  a  small 
compass  and  some  tobacco  for  Jack. 

It  must  be  hard  for  you,  in  this  happier  day,  when 
it  is  easy  to  get  with  speed  anywhere  on  swift  and 
well-horsed  coaches,  to  imagine  what  even  a  small 
journey  of  a  day  or  two  meant  for  us.  Men  who 
rode  carried  horseshoes  and  nails.  Those  who  drove 
had  in  the  carriage  ropes  and  a  box  of  tools  for  re 
pairs.  I  was  perhaps  better  off  than  some  who  drove 
or  rode  in  those  days,  for  afoot  one  cannot  be  stalled, 
nor  easily  lose  a  shoe,  although  between  Philadelphia 
and  Darby  I  have  known  it  to  happen. 

I  knew  the  country  I  was  to  travel,  and  up  to  a 
point  knew  it  well ;  beyond  that  I  must  trust  to  good 
fortune.  Early  in  the  evening  came  a  sergeant  with 
the  promised  order  for  the  boat,  and  a  pass  signed 


HUGH  WYNNE  283 

by  Sir  William  Howe's  adjutant.  At  ten  I  bade  my 
father  good-night  and  went  upstairs,  where  I  wrote 
to  him,  and  inclosed  the  note  in  one  for  my  aunt. 
This  I  gave  to  Tom,  our  coachman,  with  strict  orders 
to  deliver  it  late  the  next  day.  I  had  no  wish  that 
by  any  accident  it  should  too  early  betray  my  true 
purpose.  My  gun  I  ostentatiously  cleaned  in  the  late 
afternoon,  and  set  in  the  hall. 

No  one  but  my  aunt  had  the  least  suspicion  of 
what  I  was  in  act  to  do.  At  last  I  sat  down  and 
carefully  considered  my  plan,  and  my  best  and  most 
rapid  way  of  reaching  the  army.  To  go  through 
Germantown  and  Chestnut  Hill  would  have  been  the 
direct  route,  for  to  a  surety  our  army  lay  somewhere 
nigh  to  Worcester,  which  was  in  the  county  of  Phil 
adelphia,  although  of  late  years  I  believe  in  Mont 
gomery.  To  go  this  plain  road  would  have  taken  me 
through  the  pickets,  and  where  lay  on  guard  the  chief 
of  the  British  army-  This  would,  of  course,  be  full  of 
needless  risks.  It  remained  to  consider  the  longer  road. 
This  led  me  down  the  river  to  a  point  where  I  must 
leave  it,  shoulder  my  snapsack,  and  trudge  down  the 
Darby  road,  or  between  it  and  the  river.  Somewhere 
I  must  cross  the  highway  and  strike  across-country 
as  I  could  to  the  Schuylkill  below  Conshohocken,  and 
there  find  means  to  get  over  at  one  of  the  fords. 
Once  well  away  from  the  main  road  to  Darby  and 
Wilmington,  I  should  be,  I  thought,  safe.  After 
crossing  the  Schuylkill  I  hoped  to  get  news  which 
would  guide  me.  I  hardly  thought  it  likely  that  the 
English  who  lay  at  Germantown  and  Mount  Airy 


284  HUGH  WYNNE 

would  picket  beyond  the  banks  of  the  Wissahickon. 
I  might  have  to  look  out  for  foraging  English  west 
of  the  Schuylkill,  but  this  I  must  chance. 

I  was  about  to  leave  home,  perhaps  forever,  but  I 
never  in  my  life  went  to  bed  with  a  more  satisfied 
heart  than  I  bore  that  night. 


XVI 

break  of  day  I  woke,  and,  stealing  down 
stairs,  took  gun,  powder-horn,  and  shot, 
and  in  the  stable  loft  pnt  the  ammunition 
in  the  top  of  my  snapsack  •  then,  quickly 
changing  my  clothes,  concealed  those  I 
had  put  off  under  the  hay,  and  so  set  out. 

The  town  was  all  asleep,  and  I  saw  no  one  until  I 
passed  the  Betteririg-house,  and  the  Grenadiers  clean 
ing  their  guns,  and  powdering  their  queues  and  hair, 
and  thence  pushed  on  to  the  river.  The  lower  ferry, 
known  also  as  Gray's,  lay  just  a  little  south  of  where 
the  Woodlands,  Mr.  James  Hamilton's  house,  stood 
among  trees  high  above  the  quiet  river. 

A  few  tents  and  a  squad  of  sleepy  men  were  at  the 
ferry.  I  handed  my  order  and  pass  to  the  sergeant, 
who  looked  me  over  as  if  he  thought  it  odd  that  a 
man  of  my  class  should  be  so  equipped  to  shoot  ducks. 
However,  he  read  my  pass  and  the  order  for  the  boat, 
pushed  the  skiff  into  the  water,  and  proposed,  as  he 
lifted  my  snapsack,  to  let  one  of  his  men  row  me.  I 
said  No ;  I  must  drift  or  paddle  on  to  the  ducks,  and 
would  go  alone.  Thanking  him,  I  pushed  out  into 
the  stream.  He  wished  me  good  luck,  and  pocketed 
my  shilling. 

285 


286  HUGH  WYNNE 

It  was  now  just  sunrise.  I  paddled  swiftly  down 
stream.  Not  a  hundred  yards  from  the  ferry  I  saw 
ducks  on  the  east  shore,  and,  having  loaded,  paddled 
over  to  Rambo's  Rock,  and  was  lucky  enough  to  get 
two  ducks  at  a  shot.  Recrossing,  I  killed  two  more 
in  succession,  and  then  pushed  on,  keeping  among 
the  reeds  of  the  west  bank.  As  I  passed  Bartram's 
famous  garden,  I  saw  his  son  near  the  river,  busy, 
as  usual,  with  his  innocent  flowers. 

A  half-mile  below  I  perceived,  far  back  of  the 
shore,  a  few  redcoats.  Annoyed  no  little,— for  here 
I  meant  to  land,— I  turned  the  boat,  still  hidden  by 
the  tall  reeds,  and  soon  drew  up  the  skiff  at  Bartram's, 
where,  taking  gun  and  snapsack,  I  went  up  the  slope. 
I  found  Mr.  William  Bartram  standing  under  a  fine 
cypress  his  father  had  fetched  as  a  slip  from  Florida 
in  1731.  He  was  used  to  see  me  on  the  river,  but 
looked  at  my  odd  costume  with  as  much  curiosity  as 
the  sergeant  had  done.  He  told  me  his  father  had 
died  but  ten  days  before,  for  which  I  felt  sorry,  since, 
except  by  Friends,  who  had  disowned  the  good  botan 
ist,  he  was  held  in  general  esteem.  I  hastily  but 
frankly  told  Mr.  Bartram  my  errand.  He  said  : 

"  Come  to  the  house.  A  company  or  two  has  just 
now  passed  to  relieve  the  lower  fort." 

After  I  had  a  glass  of  milk,  and  good  store  of 
bread  and  butter,  I  asked  him  to  accept  my  gun,  and 
that  he  would  do  me  the  kindness  to  return  the  skiff, 
and  with  it  to  forward  a  note,  for  the  writing  of 
which  Mrs.  Bartram  gave  me  quill  and  paper. 

I  wrote : 


HUGH  WYNNE  287 

"Mr.  Hugh  Wynne  presents  his  compliments  to 
Mr.  Montresor,  and  returns  his  skiff.  He  desires  Mr. 
Montresor  to  accept  two  brace  of  ducks,  and  begs  to 
express  his  sincere  thanks  for  the  pass,  which  enabled 
Mr.  Wynne  to  make  with  comfort  his  way  to  the  army. 
Mr.  Wynne  trusts  at  some  time  to  be  able  to  show 
his  gratitude  for  this  favour,  and  meanwhile  he  re 
mains  Mr.  Montresor's  obedient,  humble  servant. 

"  October  1,  1777. 

"  Mr.  Wynne's  most  particular  compliments  to  Mr. 
Andre.  It  proved  easier  to  escape  than  Mr.  Andre 
thought." 

I  could  not  help  smiling  to  think  of  the  good  colo 
nel's  face  when  he  should  read  this  letter.  I  glanced 
at  the  arms  over  the  fireplace,  thanked  the  good 
people  warmly,  and,  as  I  went  out,  looked  back  at 
the  familiar  words  old  John  Bartram  set  over  the 
door  in  1770 : 

;T  is  God  alone,  Almighty  Lord, 

The  Holy  One  by  me  adored. 

It  seemed  the  last  of  home  and  its  associations.  I 
turned  away,  passed  through  the  grounds,  which  ex 
tended  up  to  the  Darby  road,  and,  after  a  careful  look 
about  me,  moved  rapidly  southward.  Here  and  there 
were  farm-houses  between  spurs  of  the  broken  forest 
which,  with  its  many  farms,  stretched  far  to  west 
ward.  I  met  no  one. 

I  knew  there  was  a  picket  at  the  Blue  Bell  Inn, 
and  so,  before  nearing  it,  I  struck  into  a  woodland, 
and,  avoiding  the  farms,  kept  to  the  northwest  until 


288  HUGH  WYNNE 

I  came  on  to  a  road  which  I  saw  at  once  to  be  Gray's 
Lane.  Unused  to  guiding  myself  by  compass,  I  had 
again  gotten  dangerously  near  to  the  river.  I  pushed 
up  the  lane  to  the  west,  and  after  half  an  hour  came 
upon  a  small  hamlet,  where  I  saw  an  open  forge  and 
a  sturdy  smith  at  work.  In  a  moment  I  recognised 
my  old  master,  Lowry,  the  farrier.  I  asked  the  way 
across- country  to  the  Schuylkill.  He  stood  a  little, 
resting  on  his  hammer,  not  in  the  least  remembering 
me.  He  said  it  was  difficult.  I  must  take  certain 
country  lanes  until  I  got  into  the  Lancaster  road, 
and  so  on. 

I  did  not  wish  to  get  into  the  main  highway,  where 
foragers  or  outlying  parties  might  see  fit  to  be  too 
curious.  I  said  at  last,  "  Dost  not  thou  know  thy  old 
prentice,  Hugh  Wynne  ? " 

I  felt  sure  of  my  man,  as  he  had  been  one  of  the 
Sons  of  Liberty,  and  had  fallen  out  with  Friends  in 
consequence,  so  that  I  did  not  hesitate  to  relate  my 
whole  story.  He  was  pleased  to  see  me,  and  bade  me 
enter  and  see  his  wife.  As  we  stood  consulting,  a 
man  cried  out  at  the  door  : 

"Here  are  more  Hessians."  And  as  he  spoke  we 
heard  the  notes  of  a  bugle. 

"  Put  me  somewhere,"  I  said,  "  and  quick." 

"No,"  he  cried.  "Here,  set  your  snapsack  back 
of  this  forge.  Put  on  this  leather  apron.  Smudge 
your  face  and  hands." 

It  took  me  but  a  minute,  and  here  I  was,  grimy 
and  black,  a  smith  again,  with  my  sack  hid  under  a 
lot  of  old  iron  and  a  broken  bellows. 


HUGH  WYNNE  289 

As  they  rode  up — some  two  dozen  yagers — I  let 
fall  the  bellows  handle,  at  which  my  master  had  set 
me  to  work,  and  went  out  to  the  doorway.  There, 
not  at  all  to  my  satisfaction,  I  saw  the  small  Hessian, 
Captain  von  Heiser,  our  third  and  least  pleasant 
boarder,  the  aide  of  General  Knyphausen.  Worse 
still,  he  was  on  Lucy.  It  was  long  before  I  knew 
how  this  came  to  pass.  They  had  two  waggons,  and, 
amidst  the  lamentations  of  the  hamlet,  took  chickens, 
pigs,  and  grain,  leaving  orders  on  the  paymaster, 
which,  I  am  told,  were  scrupulously  honoured. 

Two  horses  needed  shoeing  at  once,  and  then  I  was 
told  Lucy  had  a  loose  shoe,  and  my  master  called  me 
a  lazy  dog,  and  bid  me  quit  staring  or  I  would  get  a 
strapping,  and  to  see  to  the  gentleman's  mare,  and 
that  in  a  hurry.  It  was  clear  the  dear  thing  knew 
me ;  for  she  put  her  nose  down  to  my  side  to  get  the 
apples  I  liked  to  keep  for  her  in  my  side  pockets.  I 
really  thought  she  would  betray  me,  so  clearly  did 
she  seem  to  me  to  understand  that  here  was  a  friend 
she  knew.  A  wild  thought  came  over  me  to  mount 
her  and  ride  for  my  life.  No  horse  there  of  the  heavy 
Brandenburgers  could  have  kept  near  her.  It  would 
have  been  madness,  of  course,  and  so  I  took  my  six 
pence  with  a  touch  of  my  felt  hat,  and  saw  my  dear  Lucy 
disappear  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  riding  toward  the  town. 

"That  was  a  big  risk  for  thee,"  said  the  smith, 
wiping  the  sweat  from  his  forehead  with  his  sleeve. 
"I  will  mount  and  ride  with  thee  across-country 
through  the  Welsh  Barony.  There  thou  wilt  not 
be  far  from  the  river.  It  is  a  good  ten-mile  business." 

19 


290  HUGH  WYNNE 

After  a  little,  when  I  had  had  some  milk  and  rum, 
the  horses  were  saddled,  and  we  crossed  by  an  ox- 
road  through  the  forest  past  the  settlement  of  Card- 
ingtoii,  and  then  forded  Cobb's  Creek.  A  cross-road 
carried  us  into  the  Haverford  road,  and  so  on  by 
wood- ways  to  the  old  Welsh  farms  beyond  Merion. 

We  met  no  one  on  the  way  save  a  farmer  or  two, 
and  here,  being  near  to  the  Schuylkill,  my  old  master 
farrier  took  leave  of  me  at  the  farm  of  Edward  Mas 
ters,  which  lay  in  our  way,  and  commended  me  to 
the  care  of  this  good  Free  Quaker. 

There  I  was  well  fed,  and  told  I  need  to  look  out 
only  on  this  side  the  river  for  Tories.  They  were  worse 
than  Hessianers,  he  said,  and  robbed  like  highway 
men.  In  fact,  already  the  Tories  who  came  confidently 
back  with  the  British  army  had  become  a  terror  to  all 
peaceful  folk  between  Sweedsboro  and  our  own  city. 
Their  bands  acted  under  royal  commissions,  some  as 
honest  soldiers,  but  some  as  the  enemies  of  any  who 
owned  a  cow  or  a  barrel  of  flour,  or  from  whom, 
under  torture,  could  be  wrested  a  guinea.  All  who 
were  thus  organised  came  at  length  to  be  dreaded, 
and  this  whether  they  were  bad  or  better.  Friend 
Masters  had  suffered  within  the  week,  but,  once  over 
the  Schuylkill,  he  assured  me,  there  need  be  no  fear, 
as  our  own  partisans  and  foragers  were  so  active  to 
the  north  of  the  stream  as  to  make  it  perilous  for 
Tories. 

With  this  caution,  my  Quaker  friend  went  with 
me  a  mile,  and  set  me  on  a  wood  path.  I  must  be 
put  over  at  Hagy's  Ford,  he  feared,  as  the  river  was 


HUGH  WYNNE  291 

in  flood  and  too  high  for  a  horse  to  wade  j  nor  was 
it  much  better  at  Young's  Ford  above.  Finally  he 
said,  "  The  ferryman  is  Peter  Skinner,  and  as  bad  as 
the  Jersey  Tories  of  that  name.  If  thou  dost  perceive 
him  to  talk  Friends'  language  in  reply  to  thy  own 
talk,  thou  wilt  do  well  to  doubt  what  he  may  tell  thee. 
He  is  not  of  our  society.  He  cannot  even  so  speak 
as  that  it  will  deceive.  Hereabouts  it  is  thought  he 
is  in  league  with  Fitz."  I  asked  who  was  Fitz.  He 
was  one,  I  was  told,  who  had  received  some  lashes 
when  a  private  in  our  army,  and  had  deserted.  The 
British,  discovering  his  capacity,  now  used  him  as  a 
forager ;  but  he  did  not  stop  at  hen-roosts. 

With  this  added  warning,  I  went  on,  keeping  north 
until  I  came -to  the  Eock  road,  by  no  means  mis 
named,  and  so  through  Merion  Square  to  Hagy's  Ford 
Lane  and  the  descent  to  the  river.  I  saw  few  people 
on  the  way.  The  stream  was  in  a  freshet,  and  not  to 
be  waded.  My  ferryman  was  caulking  a  dory.  I  said: 

"Wilt  thou  set  me  across,  friend,  and  at  what 
charge  1 " 

To  this  he  replied,  "  Where  is  thee  bound  ? " 

I  said,  "  To  White  Marsh." 

"  Thee  is  not  of  these  parts." 

"No." 

He  was  speaking  the  vile  tongue  which  now  all 
but  educated  Friends  speak,  and  even  some  of  these ; 
but  at  that  time  it  was  spoken  only  by  the  vulgar. 

"  It  will  cost  thee  two  shillings." 

"  Too  much/'  said  I ;  "  but  thou  hast  me  caught. 
I  must  over,  and  that  soon." 


292  HUGH  WYNNE 

He  was  long  about  getting  ready,  and  now  and 
then  looked  steadily  across  the  stream  •  but  as  to  this 
I  was  not  troubled,  as  I  knew  that,  once  beyond  it, 
I  was  out  of  danger. 

I  paid  my  fare,  and  left  him  looking  after  me  up 
the  deep  cut  which  led  to  the  more  level  uplands. 
Whistling  gaily,  and  without  suspicion,  I  won  the 
hilltop  by  what  I  think  they  called  Ship  Lane. 

Glad  to  be  over  Schuylkill  and  out  of  the  way  of 
risks,  I  sat  down  by  the  roadside  at  the  top  of  the 
ascent.  The  forest  was  dense  with  underbrush  on 
either  side,  and  the  hickories,  and  below  them  the 
sumachs,  were  already  rich  with  the  red  and  gold  of 
autumn.  Being  rather  tired,  I  remained  at  rest  at 
least  for  a  half-hour  in  much  comfort  of  body  and 
mind.  I  had  been  strongly  urged  by  my  love  for 
Darthea  to  await  her  coming ;  but  decisions  are  and 
were  with  me  despotic,  and,  once  I  was  of  a  mind  to 
go,  not  even  Darthea  could  keep  me.  Yet  to  leave 
her  to  my  cousin  and  his  wiles  I  hated.  The  more 
I  discussed  him  in  the  council  of  my  own  thoughts, 
the  more  I  was  at  a  loss.  His  evident  jealousy  of 
one  so  much  younger  did  seem  to  me,  as  it  did  to  my 
aunt,  singular.  And  why  should  he  wish  me  to  be 
away,  as  clearly  he  did  ?  and  why  also  malign  me  to 
my  father  ?  I  smiled  to  think  I  was  where  his  malice 
could  do  me  no  harm,  and,  rising,  pulled  my  snapsack 
straps  up  on  my  shoulders,  and  set  my  face  to  the 
east. 

Of  a  sudden  I  heard  to  left,  "  Halt,  there ! "  I 
saw  a  long  rifle  covering  me,  and  above  the  brush 


HUGH  WYNNE  293 

a  man's  face.  Then  stepped  out  to  right,  as  I  obeyed 
the  order,  a  fellow  in  buckskin  shirt  and  leggings, 
with  a  pistol.  I  cried  out,  "  I  surrender  ;  "  for  what 
else  could  I  do  ?  Instantly  a  dozen  men,  all  armed, 
were  in  the  road,  and  an  ill-looking  lot  they  were. 
The  leader,  a  coarse  fellow,  was  short  and  red  of 
face,  and  much  pimpled.  He  had  hair  half  a  foot 
long,  and  a  beard  such  as  none  wore  in  those  days. 

I  had  but  time  to  say  meekly,  "Why  dost  thou 
stop  me,  friend  ? "  when  he  jerked  off  my  sack  and, 
plunging  a  hand  inside,  pulled  out  a  pistol. 

"  A  pretty  Quaker !  Here,"  and  he  put  back  the 
pistol,  crying,  as  the  men  laughed,  "  sergeant,  strap 
this  on  your  back.  Quick !  fetch  out  the  horses ;  we 
will  look  him  over  later.  Up  with  him  behind  Joe  ! 
Quick — a  girth !  We  have  no  time  to  waste.  A 
darned  rebel  spy !  No  doubt  Sir  William  may  like 
to  have  him." 

In  truth,  no  time  was  lost  nor  any  ceremony  used, 
and  here  was  I  strapped  to  the  waist  of  a  sturdy 
trooper,  behind  whom  I  was  set  on  a  big-boned  roan 
horse,  and  on  my  way  home  again. 

"Which  way,  Captain  Fitz?"  said  the  sergeant. 
"  The  ford  is  high."  In  a  moment  we  were  away,  in 
all,  as  I  noted,  about  a  score. 

The  famous  Tory  chief —he  was  no  better  than  a 
bold  thief —made  no  reply,  but  rode  northwest  with 
his  following  for  the  ford  below  Conshohocken,  as 
I  fancied.  He  went  at  speed  through  the  open  pine 
forest,  I,  my  hands  being  free,  holding  on  to  my  man 
as  well  as  I  could,  and,  as  you  may  suppose,  not  very 

20 


294  HUGH  WYNNE 

happy,  A  mile  away  we  came  out  on  a  broad  road. 
Here  the  captain  hesitated,  and  of  a  sudden  turned 
to  left  toward  the  river,  crying  loudly,  with  an  oath, 
"  Follow  me ! "  The  cause  was  plain. 

Some  twenty  troopers  came  out  into  the  road  not 
a  hundred  yards  distant,  and  instantly  rode  down  on 
us  at  a  run.  Before  we  could  get  as  swift  a  pace, 
they  were  close  upon  us  j  and  then  it  was  a  wild  and 
perilous  race  downhill  for  the  river,  with  yell§,  curses, 
and  pistol-balls  flying,  I  as  helpless,  meanwhile,  as 
a  child.  The  big  roan  kept  well  up  to  the  front 
near  the  captain.  Looking  back,  through  dust  and 
smoke,  I  saw  our  pursuers  were  better  horsed  and 
were  gaining.  A  man  near  me  dropped,  and  a  horse 
went  down.  With  my  left  hand  I  caught  hold  of  the 
strap  which  fastened  me  to  the  rascal  in  the  saddle. 
He  was  riding  for  life,  and  too  scared  to  take  note  of 
the  act.  I  gave  the  buckle  a  quick  jerk,  and  it  came 
loose,  and  the  strap  fell.  I  clutched  the  man  by  the 
throat  with  my  right  hand,  and  squeezed  his  gullet 
with  a  death-grip.  He  made  with  his  right  hand  for  a 
holster  pistol,  losing  his  stirrups,  and  kicking  as 
if  in  a  fit.  I  only  tightened  my  grip,  and  fetched 
him  a  crack  under  the  left  ear  with  my  unengaged 
hand.  He  was  reeling  in  the  saddle  when,  at  this 
instant,  I  was  aware  of  a  horseman  on  my  right.  I 
saw  a  sabre  gleam  in  air  above  us,  and,  letting  go 
my  scamp's  throat,  I  ducked  quickly  below  his  left 
shoulder  as  I  swung  him  to  left,  meaning  to  chance 
a  fall.  He  had,  I  fancy,  some  notion  of  his  peril,  for 
he  put  up  his  hand  and  bent  forward.  I  saw  the 


HUGH  WYNNE  295 

flash  of  a  blade,  and,  my  captor's  head  falling  for 
ward,  a  great  spoilt  of  blood  shot  back  into  my  face, 
as  the  pair  of  us  tumbled  together  headlong  from 
his  horse.  I  was  dimly  conscious  of  yells,  oaths,  a 
horse  leaping  over  me,  and  for  a  few  seconds  knew 
no  more.  Then  I  sat  up,  wiped  the  blood  away,  and 
saw  what  had  happened. 

The  trooper  lay  across  me  dead,  his  head  nearly 
severed  from  the  trunk,  and  spouting  great  jets  of 
blood.  A  half-dozen  dead  or  wounded  were  scattered 
along  the  road.  Not  a  rod  away  was  the  sergeant 
who  had  my  sack  pinned  under  his  horse,  and  far 
ahead,  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  that  terrible  swordsman 
riding  hard  after  the  bandit.  Fitz,  well  mounted,  got 
off,  I  may  add,  and,  with  three  or  four,  swam  the 
river,  living  to  be  hanged,  as  he  well  deserved. 

By  the  time  I  was  up  and  staggering  forward,  bent 
on  recovering  my  sack,  the  leader,  who  had  given  up 
the  chase,  rode  toward  me.  I  must  have  been  a  queer 
and  horrid  figure.  I  was  literally  covered  with  blood 
and  mud.  The  blood  was  everywhere,— in  my  hair, 
over  my  face,  and  down  my  neck,— but  I  wanted  my 
precious  sack. 

"  Halt !  "  he  cried  out.  "  Here,  corporal,  tie  this 
fellow." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  I,  now  quite  myself.  "  I  was 
the  prisoner  of  these  rascals." 

"  Indeed  ?    Your  name ! n 

"Hugh  Wynne." 

"Where  from?" 

"From  the  city." 


296  -     HUGH  WYNNE 

"Where  to!" 

"  To  join  the  army." 

"  Your  business  f    What  are  you  ? " 

"  Gentleman." 

"  Good  heavens !  you  are  a  queer  one  !  We  shall 
see.  Are  you  hurt  ?  No  ?  Great  Cassar !  you  are 
an  awful  sight !  " 

"I  was  tied  to  that  fellow  you  disposed  of,  and 
with  your  permission  I  will  get  my  snapsack  yonder." 

"  Good ;  get  it.  Go  with  him,  corporal,  and  keep 
an  eye  on  him." 

In  a  half -hour  the  dead  were  stripped  and  pitched 
aside,  the  wounded  cared  for  in  haste,  and  the  horses 
caught. 

"  Can  you  ride  ? "  said  my  captor.  "  By  George, 
you  must ! " 

"  Yes,  I  can  ride." 

"  Then  up  with  you.     Give  him  a  leg." 

I  wanted  none,  and  was  up  in  a  moment  on  the 
bare  back  of  a  big  farm  mare  ;  their  errand  had  been, 
I  learned,  the  purchase  of  horses.  The  captain  bade 
me  ride  with  him,  and,  turning  north,  we  rode  away, 
while  the  big  brute  under  me  jolted  my  sore  bones. 

"And  now,"  said  the  captain,  "let  me  hear,  Mr. 
Wynne,  what  you  have  to  say.  Take  a  pull  at  my 
flask." 

I  did  so,  and  went  on  to  relate  my  adventures 
briefly — the  duck-shooting,  which  much  amused  him, 
the  escape  at  the  forge,  and  what  else  seemed  to  be 
needed  to  set  myself  right.  He  looked  me  over  again 
keenly. 


HUGH  WYNNE  297 

"  You  had  a  close  thing  of  it." 

"  Yes/'  said  I ;  "  you  are  a  terrible  swordsman,  and 
a  good  one,  if  you  will  pardon  me." 

"  I  meant  to  cut  him  on  the  head,  but  he  put  his 
neck  where  his  head  should  have  been.  There  is 
one  rascal  the  less ;  but  I  missed  the  leader.  Hang 
him !  " 

"  He  will  take  care  of  that,"  said  I. 

Then  my  companion  said  I  must  join  his  troop, 
and  would  I  excuse  his  rough  dealing  with  me  ? 

I  declared  myself  well  content,  and  explained  as  to 
his  offer  that  I  was  much  obliged,  and  would  think 
it  over  5  but  that  I  desired  first  to  see  the  army,  and 
to  find  my  friend,  Captain  Warder,  of  the  Pennsyl 
vania  line. 

"  Yes ;  a  stout  man  and  dark  ? " 

"  No }  slight,  well  built,  a  blond." 

"  Good ;  I  know  him.  I  was  testing  your  tale,  Mr. 
Wynne.  One  has  need  to  be  careful  in  these  times." 
For  a  few  moments  he  was  silent,  and  then  asked 
sharply,  "Where  did  you  cross?" 

I  told  him. 

"And  are  there  any  outlying  pickets  above  the 
upper  ferry  on  the  west  bank?" 

I  thought  not,  and  went  on  to  tell  of  the  bridging 
of  the  river,  of  the  lines  of  forts,  and  of  the  positions 
held  in  the  city  by  the  Grenadiers  and  the  High 
landers.  A  large  part  of  the  army,  I  said,  was  being 
withdrawn  from  Germantown,  I  supposed  with  a 
view  to  attack  the  forts  below  the  city. 

"  What  you  say  is  valuable,  Mr.  Wynne."  And  he 


298  HUGH  WYNNE 

quickened  the  pace  with  an  order,  and  pushed  on  at 
speed. 

It  seemed  to  me  time  to  know  into  whose  company 
I  had  fallen,  and  who  was  the  hardy  and  decisive 
rider  at  my  side. 

"  May  I  take  the  liberty  to  ask  with  what  command 
lam?" 

"  Certainly.  I  am  Allan  McLane,  at  your  service. 
I  will  talk  to  you  later ;  now  I  want  to  think  over 
what  you  have  told  me.  I  tried  to  get  into  the  city 
last  week,  dressed  as  an  old  woman  j  they  took  my 
eggs— Lord,  they  were  aged!— but  I  got  no  farther 
than  the  middle  ferry.  Are  you  sure  that  troops  are 
being  withdrawn  from  Germantown  ? " 

I  said  I  was,  and  in  large  numbers.  After  this  we 
rode  on  in  silence  through  the  twilight.  I  glanced 
now  and  then  at  my  companion,  the  boldest  of  our 
partisan  leaders,  and  already  a  sharp  thorn  in  the 
side  of  General  Howe's  extended  line.  He  was  slight, 
well  made,  and  dark,  with  some  resemblance  to 
Arthur  Wynne,  but  with  no  weak  lines  about  a 
mouth  which,  if  less  handsome  than  my  cousin's,  was 
far  more  resolute. 

I  was  ready  to  drop  from  my  rough  steed  when  we 
began,  about  nine  at  night,  to  see  the  camp-fires  of 
our  army  on  either  side  of  Skippack  Creek.  A  halt 
at  the  pickets,  and  we  rode  on  around  the  right  flank 
among  rude  huts,  rare  tents,  rows  of  spancelled 
horses,— we  call  it  "hobbled"  nowadays,— and  so  at 
last  to  a  group  of  tents,  the  headquarters  of  the  small 
cavalry  division. 


HUGH  WYNNE  299 

"  Halt !  "  I  heard ;  and  I  literally  almost  tumbled 
off  my  horse,  pleased  to  see  the  last  of  him. 

"  This  way,  sir/'  said  McLane.  "  Here  is  my  tent. 
There  is  a  flask  under  the  pine-needles.  I  have  no 
feather-bed  to  offer.  Get  an  hour's  rest ;  it  is  all  you 
can  have  just  now.  When  I  find  out  the  headquar 
ters,  you  must  ride  again."  And  he  was  gone. 

I  found  a  jug  of  water  and  a  towel  j  but  my  at 
tempts  to  get  the  blood  and  mud  out  of  my  hair  and 
neck  were  quite  vain.  I  gave  it  up  at  last.  Then  I 
nearly  emptied  the  flask  which  McLane  had  left  me, 
set  my  sack  under  my  head,  pulled  up  a  blanket,  and 
in  a  minute  was  out  of  the  world  of  war  and  sound 
asleep. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  my  slumber  lasted  on  nry 
fragrant  bed  of  pine.  I  heard  a  voice  say,  "  Are  you 
dead,  man  ? "  And  shaken  roughly,  I  sat  up,  confused, 
and  for  a  moment  wondering  where  I  was. 

"  Come,"  said  McLane.     "  Oh,  leave  your  sack." 

"  No,"  I  said,  not  caring  to  explain  why. 

In  a  moment  I  was  in  the  saddle,  as  fresh  as  need 
be,  the  cool  October  night- wind  in  my  face. 

"  Where  are  we  bound  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Headquarters.  I  want  you  to  tell  your  own  news. 
Hang  the  man !  "  We  had  knocked  down  a  lurching 
drunkard,  but  McLane  stayed  to  ask  no  questions, 
and  in  a  half -hour  we  pulled  up  in  the  glare  of  a  huge 
fire,  around  which  lay  aides,  some  asleep  and  others 
smoking.  A  few  yards  away  was  a  row  of  tents. 

McLane  looked  about  him.  "  Holloa,  Hamilton !  n 
he  cried  to  a  slight  young  man  lying  at  the  fire. 


300  HUGH  WYNNE 

"  Tell  his  Excellency  I  am  here.  I  have  news  of  im 
portance." 

A  moment  after,  the  gentleman,  who  was  to  become 
so  well  known  and  to  die  so  needlessly,  came  back, 
and  we  followed  him  to  the  larger  of  the  tents.  As 
he  lifted  the  fly  he  said,  "Captain  McLane  to  see 
your  Excellency.'7 

On  a  plain  farm-house  table  were  four  candles, 
dimly  lighting  piles  of  neatly  folded  papers,  a  simple 
camp-bed,  two  or  three  wooden  stools,  and  a  camp- 
chest.  The  officer  who  sat  bareheaded  at  the  table 
pushed  aside  a  map  and  looked  up.  I  was  once  more 
in  the  presence  of  Washington.  Both  McLane  and 
I  stood  waiting— I  a  little  behind. 

"  Whom  have  you  here,  sir  ? " 

"Mr.  Wynne,  a  gentleman  who  has  escaped  in 
disguise  to  join  the  army.  He  has  news  which  may 
interest  your  Excellency."  As  he  spoke  I  came 
forward. 

"  Are  you  wounded,  sir  ? " 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "it  is  another  man's  blood,  not  mine." 
He  showed  no  further  curiosity,  nor  any  sign  of  the 
amazement  I  had  seen  in  the  faces  of  his  aides-de 
camp  on  my  appearance  at  the  camp-fire. 

"  Pray  be  seated,  gentlemen.  Do  me  the  favour, 
Captain  McLane,  to  ask  Colonel  Hamilton  to  return. 
Mr.  Wynne,  you  said  ? " 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency." 

Then,  to  set  myself  right,  I  told  him  that  I  had  had 
the  honour  to  have  met  him  at  the  house  of  my  aunt, 
Mistress  Wynne.  "  With  permission,  sir,"  I  added, 


HUGH  WYNNE  301 

"  I  am  charged  to  deliver  to  your  Excellency  eight 
hundred  pounds  which  Mistress  Wynne  humbly 
trusts  may  be  of  use  to  the  cause  of  liberty."  So 
saying,  I  pulled  the  English  notes  out  of  my  long 
stockings  and  laid  them  before  him. 

"  I  could  desire  many  recruits  like  you/7  he  said. 
"  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  beg  to  present  Mr.  Wynne.  Have 
the  kindness  to  make  memoranda  of  what  he  may 
tell  us."  He  spoke  with  deliberation,  as  one  who  had 
learned  to  weigh  his  words,  not  omitting  any  of  the 
usual  courteous  forms,  more  common  at  that  time 
than  in  our  less  formal  day.  General  Knox  came  in 
as  we  sat  down. 

He  was  a  sturdy  man  with  a  slight  stoop,  and  had 
left  his  book-shop  in  Boston  to  become  the  trusted 
friend  and  artillery  officer  of  the  great  Virginian, 
who  chose  his  men  with  slight  regard  to  the  tongues 
of  the  Southern  officers,  for  whom  they  were  too 
often  "  shopkeepers  "  or  "  mere  traders." 

"Report  of  court  martial  on  Daniel  Plympton, 
deserter,"  said  Knox.  The  general  took  the  papers, 
and  for  ten  minutes  at  least  was  intently  concerned 
with  what  he  read.  Then  he  took  a  pen  and  wrote 
a  line  and  his  name,  and,  looking  up,  said,  "  Approved, 
of  course.  Parade  his  regiment  at  daybreak  for  exe 
cution.  Your  pardon,  gentlemen."  And  at  once  he 
began  to  put  to  me  a  series  of  questions  rather  slowly. 
The  absence  of  hurry  surprised  me,  young  as  I  was, 
and  not  yet  apt  to  take  in  all  I  might  see.  Every 
minute  some  one  appeared.  There  were  papers  to 
sign,  aides  coming  and  going,  impatient  sounds  with- 


302  HUGH  WYNNE 

out,  a  man's  death  decreed  j  but  with  no  sign  of  haste 
he  went  on  to  finish. 

At  last  he  rose  to  his  feet,  we  also  standing,  of 
conrse.  "Are  you  sure  that  Sir  William  has  re 
called  any  large  force  from  Germantown  ?— any  large 
forcer7 

I  knew  that  the  Grenadiers  and  many  Hessians  had 
come  in,  and  a  considerable  part  of  the  artillery,  but 
to  what  extent  or  precisely  in  what  numbers  I  could 
not  be  sure.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  intensely  con 
sidering  what  I  told  him. 

At  last  he  said,  "  You  must  be  tired.  You  have 
brought  much  needed  help,  and  also  good  news." 
Why  good  I  did  not  then  understand.  "And  now 
what  do  you  desire?  How  can  I  serve  you,  Mr. 
Wynne?" 

I  said  I  wished  to  be  in  the  ranks  for  a  time, 
until  I  learned  a  little  more  of  the  duty. 

He  made  no  comment,  but  turning  to  McLane, 
said,  "  Captain  McLane,  you  will  care  for  this  gen 
tleman.  I  trust  occasion  may  serve,  Mr.  Wynne,  to 
enable  me  to  offer  Mistress  Wynne  my  thanks.  When 
you  desire  a  commission,  Mr.  Hamilton  will  kindly 
remind  me  of  the  service  you  have  done  your  coun 
try  to-day.  You  have  acted  with  your  usual  discre 
tion,  Captain  McLane.  Good-night,  gentlemen." 
We  bowed  and  went  out. 

On  our  way  back  we  rode  a  footpace,  while  the 
captain,  now  ready  enough  to  talk,  answered  my 
many  questions.  "  Yes ;  the  general  was  a  reserved, 
tranquil  man,  with  a  chained-up  devil  inside  of  him ; 


HUGH  WYNNE  303 

could  lay  a  whip  over  a  black  fellow's  back  if  a  horse 
were  ill  groomed,  or  call  a  man— and  he  a  general 

_a  d drunkard;  but  that  would  be  in  the  heat 

of  a  fight.  An  archbishop  would  learn  to  swear  in 
the  army,  and  the  general  had  no  more  piety  than 
was  good  for  men  who  were  here  to  commit  murder." 

The  next  day  I  set  out  afoot,  as  I  preferred,  to  look 
for  Jack,  and  a  nice  business  I  found  it.  The  army 
was  moving  down  the  Skippack  road  to  Worcester 
township,  and  the  whole  march  seemed,  to  me  at  least, 
one  great  bewildering  confusion  of  dust,  artillery, 
or  waggons  stalled,  profane  aides  going  hither  and 
thither,  broken  fences,  women  standing  at  farm-house 
doors,  white  and  crying,  as  the  long  line  of  our  foot 
passed ;  and  over  all  rang  sharp  the  clink  and  rattle 
of  flanking  cavalry  as  the  horse  streamed  by,  tram 
pling  the  ruddy  buckwheat-fields,  and  through  rav 
aged  orchards  and  broken  gardens.  Overhead,  in  a 
great  cloud  high  in  air,  the  fine  dust  was  blown  down 
the  line  by  the  east  wind.  It  was  thick  and  oppres 
sive,  choking  man  and  horse  with  an  exacting  thirst, 
mocked  by  empty  wells  and  defiled  brooks.  No  one 
knew  where  any  one  else  was,  and  in  all  my  life,  save 
on  one  memorable  evening,  I  never  heard  as  great  a 
variety  of  abominable  language. 

I  had  done  my  best,  by  some  change  of  under 
clothes  and  the  industrious  use  of  soap  and  water,  to 
make  my  appearance  less  noticeable ;  but  it  was  still 
bad  enough,  because  I  had  no  outer  garments  except 
those  I  was  wearing.  Had  I  been  better  dressed,  I 
had  fared  better :  for  in  those  davs  clothes  were  con- 


304  HUGH  WYNNE 

sidered,  and  you  might  easily  tell  by  his  costume  if  a 
man  were  a  mechanic,  a  farmer,  a  small  trader,  or  a 
gentleman. 

I  fell  at  last  upon  an  officer  who  was  endeavouring 
to  get  his  horse  a  share  of  wayside  ditch  water.  I 
said  to  him,  seeing  my  chance,  that  his  horse  had 
picked  up  a  stone;  if  he  would  wait  a  moment  I 
would  knock  it  out.  On  this,  and  upon  his  thank 
ing  me,  I  asked  where  I  might  find  Wayne's  brigade, 
for  in  it,  as  I  knew,  was  my  captain  of  the  Third 
Pennsylvania  Continental  foot.  He  told  me  it  was 
a  mile  ahead.  Comforted  by  this  news,  I  walked  on, 
keeping  chiefly  in  the  fields,  for  there  alone  was  it 
possible  to  get  past  the  marching  columns. 

About  eleven  there  was  a  halt.  I  passed  a  lot  of 
loose  women  in  carts,  many  canvas-covered  commis 
sary  waggons,  footsore  men  fallen  out,  and  some 
asleep  in  the  fields,— all  the  scum  and  refuse  of  an 
army,— with  always  dust,  dust,  so  that  man,  beast, 
waggons,  and  every  green  thing  were  of  one  dull 
yellow.  Then  there  was  shouting  on  the  road  j  the 
stragglers  fled  left  and  right,  a  waggon  of  swearing 
women  turned  over  into  a  great  ditch,  and  with 
laughter,  curses,  and  crack  of  whip,  two  well-horsed 
cannon  and  caissons  bounded  over  the  field,  crashing 
through  a  remnant  of  snake  fence,  and  so  down  the 
road  at  speed.  I  ran  behind  them,  glad  of  the  gap 
they  left.  About  a  mile  farther  they  pulled  up,  and 
going  by  I  saw  with  joy  the  red  and  buff  of  the 
Pennsylvania  line.  Behind  them  there  was  an 
interval,  and  thus  the  last  files  were  less  dusty.  But 


HUGH  WYNNE  305 

for  this  I  should  have  gone  past  them.  A  soldier 
told  me  that  this  was  the  regiment  I  sought,  and, 
searching  the  ranks  eagerly  as  they  stood  at  ease,  I 
walked  swiftly  along. 

"  Holloa !  "  I  shouted.  I  saw  Jack  look  about  him. 
"  Jack !  "  I  cried.  He  ran  to  me  as  I  spoke.  I  think 
I  should  have  kissed  him  but  for  the  staring  soldiers. 
In  ah1  my  life  I  never  was  so  glad.  There  was  brief 
time  allowed  for  greetings.  "  Fall  in !  fall  in !  "  I 
heard.  "  March !  " 

"  Come  along/'  he  said.  And  walking  beside  him, 
I  poured  out  news  of  home,  of  my  Aunt  Gainor,  and 
of  myself. 

A  mile  beyond  we  halted  close  to  the  road  near  to 
Methacton  Hill,  where,  I  may  add,  we  lay  that  night 
of  October  2.  Having  no  tents,  Jack  and  I  slept 
on  the  ground  rolled  up  in  Holland  blankets,  and 
sheltered  in  part  by  a  wicky-up,  which  the  men  con 
trived  cleverly  enough. 

I  saw  on  our  arrival  how— automatically,  as  it 
seemed  to  me— the  regiments  found  camping-grounds, 
and  how  well  the  ragged  men  arranged  for  shelters 
of  boughs,  or  made  tents  with  two  rails  and  a  blanket. 
The  confusion  disappeared.  Sentries  and  pickets 
were  posted,  fires  were  lit,  and  food  cooked.  The 
order  of  it  seemed  to  me  as  mysterious  as  the  seem 
ing  disorder  of  the  march. 

After  some  talk  with  Jack,  I  concluded  to  serve  as 
a  volunteer,  at  least  for  a  few  weeks,  and  learn  the 
business  better  before  I  should  decide  to  accept  the 
general's  kindness.  Accordingly  I  took  my  place 


306  HUGH  WYNNE 

in  the  ranks  of  Jack's  company,  and,  confiding  most 
of  my  gold  to  his  care,  kept  in  a  belt  under  my 
clothes  not  more  than  six  guineas,  as  I  remember. 
No  uniform  was  to  be  had  at  any  price  j  but  I  was 
hardly  worse  off  than  half  of  the  men  who  made  up 
our  company.  A  musket,  and  what  else  was  wanted, 
I  obtained  without  trouble,  and  as  to  the  drill,  I  knew 
it  well  enough,  thanks  to  the  Irish  sergeant  who  had 
trained  us  at  home. 

Our  duties,  of  course,  kept  us  much  apart— that  is, 
Jack  and  myself ;  but  as  he  made  use,  or  pretended 
to  make  use,  of  me  as  an  orderly,  I  was  able  to  see 
more  of  him  that  day  than  otherwise  would  have 
been  possible.  My  pistols  I  asked  him  to  use  until  I 
could  reclaim  them,  and  I  made  him  happy  with  the 
tobacco  I  brought,  and  which  I  soon  saw  him  divid 
ing  among  other  officers ;  for  what  was  Jack's  was 
always  everybody's.  And,  indeed,  because  of  this 
generosity  he  has  been  much  imposed  upon  by  the 
selfish. 


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